


Love's Worth Running To

by mycitruspocket



Series: Rainbow Farm Chronicles [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (G/E), (G/E/J), Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Developing Friendships, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Gay, Falling In Love, Farm Life with Goats and Horses, Farmer Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Found Family, Getting Together, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Multi, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - M/M/M, Veterinarian Jaskier, background Lambert/Aiden - Freeform, farmer eskel, treated seriously and with love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29069655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycitruspocket/pseuds/mycitruspocket
Summary: Eskel and Geralt just have a few too many aesthetically pleasing attributes to ignore, which Jaskier tries not to make into a problem. Of course the two most attractive people in town are married. To each other! It’s fine, it will be fine, because he’s here for the adventure, and the change, and to make friends. A boy can dream and appreciate the nice things that present themselves to him so handsomely, ok?Or: Geralt and Eskel are hot and competent farmer husbands, Jaskier is their new oblivious vet who is looking for adventures in the little mountain village of Morhen, Lambert and Aiden are absolutely besotted with each other, Vesemir is the proud farmer dad/grandpa, and Ciri has always loved rainbows.A Modern Farm AU where everyone is queer, including Roach.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert
Series: Rainbow Farm Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2208612
Comments: 402
Kudos: 451





	1. New in Town

**Author's Note:**

> My dearest hooptedoodle - my muse, enabler and beta - helped to shape this story, made it better, and kept me sane throughout. Thank you!
> 
> This fic is set in a modern Continent without magic or monsters, but plays with canon references of show, games and books.
> 
> The story is complete and will be updated twice a week as I edit the chapters.
> 
> Lambert is not just a side character in this, and I especially loved developing his friendship with Jaskier. His established relationship with Aiden is treated with love and care. The next instalment in this verse is already in progress and is focused entirely on their backstory. Stay tuned, if you love them as much as I do.
> 
> The title is of course from The Amazing Devil (Love Run), nothing inspires and soothes me more than their music.

Jaskier leans his guitar against the barstool and sits down with his back to the bar, scanning the room for people he might know already, or might want to get to know tonight. The barroom is quiet though, it's too early yet for the evening crowd to fill in. It’s only his second week in town, but living in one of the few rooms the pub rents out has proven very practical to get to know some people.

He doesn’t see anyone familiar or interesting yet, but the evening has barely begun and he’s sure he’ll find fine company soon enough — especially when he gets to perform again here at the Tipsy Thistle, that always makes it easier. He’s been down at the bar every night since he moved here, and yes, he’s met a couple of nice people, slept with some, but what he’d also like to find is someone who is cut out to be a future friend.

Morhen is a small town, Jaskier knew that when he accepted the job. It’s also exactly what he wanted, to finally get out into the field and get his hands dirty instead of teaching for yet another year. Oxenfurt had been a charming city to live in, comfortable in many aspects such as a steady job as a professor, the sheer amount of pubs to entertain in, live out his hobby as a musician after a dull day at college, as well as finding enticing people to spend some time with. Everyone wanted to have a tumble with Oxenfurt’s famous singing vet, but none of them were able to hold his attention for long. None of them had wanted to keep him either. So in the end, he didn’t want to be kept by this lifestyle any longer.

All in all, it had gotten kind of boring, and he decided it was time for a change. What Jaskier needed after a decade of academics was a new challenge, before he became the stuffy old professor he never wanted to be.

So here he is now, the new vet in a town that could very well be at the edge of the world, with only one pub, and he’s honestly happy to be here. This is an adventure and it felt like a call from destiny when his mentor had told him an old friend of his was looking for someone to take over his clinic.

He swings around to face the bar, about to order a drink when he spots someone out of the corner of his eye: a broadly muscled man, probably in his late thirties, with devilishly attractive long white hair, nursing a pint at the large corner booth in the far end of the barroom.

“Oh sweetie,” the barkeeper's voice comes from behind the bar, but he can’t take his eyes off the man. “Sorry to tell you, tonight’s karaoke night. You’re welcome to play again tomorrow if you like, you drew quite the crowd last night. Here, this one’s on the house, you’re good for business.”

“Thanks, Molly,” Jaskier says absently, grabs blindly for the pint she put in front of him, eyes still fixed on the corner where the man sits perfectly still, gazing into his beer.

Jaskier stands, walks over like something is physically drawing him over there, and comes to rest leaning against a structural beam.

“I like how you just sit in a corner and brood.” It’s not the best pick-up line in his history, but it’s the first thing that came to mind and that is usually good enough for a conversation starter.

“I’m here to drink alone,” comes the devastating answer from this fascinating man.

“Good, yeah. Good,” he stalls. “Haven’t seen you around, yet you look like a local. Not a frequent customer to this fine establishment?”

The man just stares ahead stoically, then takes a large sip from his pint. Jaskier’s got worse responses than silence so instead of backing away, he sits down.

“Oh fun, you’re the silent type. Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out,” he says eagerly, drumming his fingers on the table.

He looks a bit closer, takes in the way the man’s long hair drapes over his shoulders, the white a stark contrast to the black leather jacket he’s wearing, and how it frames his handsome features so beautifully. He notices muddy, knee-high boots, tight riding trousers, the faint smell of horse and suddenly he knows who this must be.

“Big muddy farmer, white hair, distinctive horsey smell with a hint of goat if I’m not mistaken. I know who you are!” Jaskier concludes, maybe a tad too smug.

The man's phone buzzes on the table. Seemingly completely unbothered by leaving Jaskier without a response yet again, he reaches for his phone to check the message. Then he simply empties his pint in one large gulp and stands. Dropping a few coins onto the table, the stranger walks away without another word and Jaskier feels compelled to hurry after him.

“You are Geralt Rivia, from the Rainbow Farm!” Jaskier exclaims, twirling around a beam simply to make a bit of a show to draw his attention, but the man looks straight ahead, walking towards the exit without hesitation. Definitely a challenge, this one.

“Called it!” Jaskier singsongs, a last try before he switches strategies. “Darling Molly, keep an eye on my guitar, please,” he tells the barkeeper, who nods in amusement, and follows Geralt outside.

“Where are we going?” he asks casually.

“ _I_ am going to meet my husband, who picked up our daughter from the station," comes his gruff answer. But it’s an answer, at least. Jaskier can work with that.

“Oh brilliant! That husband must be Eskel, yes?”

“How do you know our names?”

Jaskier grins smugly, he’s got his attention at last. He’s suddenly very grateful that his predecessor Mr. Kapalski is ever so chatty, as is his husband, and they both provided him with personal information about literally everyone in town — pet-owner or not.

“Julian Pankratz,” Jaskier says, stretching out his hand in greeting as he jogs along while Geralt walks ahead with a wide stride. “Please, call me Jaskier,” he says after a few more metres of jogging, then drops his rejected hand awkwardly and tries not to show his disappointment. This is truly a rollercoaster of an interaction.

“I’m the new vet,” he goes on unprompted. “Took over from Mr. Kapalski last week, he told me everything about you and I’m happy to inform you that we have an appointment for the general check-up of your goats on Thursday.”

“Hm,” Geralt says, and stops so abruptly that Jaskier almost stumbles into him. He does absolutely _not_ flinch when the man stares at him in irritation. Suddenly his gaze wanders to something over Jaskier’s shoulder and it softens immediately. His whole posture changes, a tenseness Jaskier didn’t notice before leaves Geralt’s shoulders and he’s no longer looming dangerously over him. Geralt’s face lights up, he smiles, and raises a hand in a little wave.

Jaskier turns to see two people waving back from the car park on the other side of the street. A young woman with hair so blond it almost looks as white as Geralt’s from the distance, and a handsome man with the broadest shoulders he’s ever seen.

Geralt clears his throat and Jaskier turns back around to see a hand stretched out between them.

“Geralt,” he says simply, “and that’s my family over there. Well, part of it,” he adds and his voice is suddenly much softer.

Jaskier takes his hand and is not at all surprised by Geralt’s firm handshake, and yet, he feels a bit lightheaded at the contact, holds on for maybe a few seconds too long before he recovers and lets Geralt’s hand go slowly.

“Nice to meet you, Geralt,” he says, dropping his voice to sound serious and not over the top because that seems important right now, for some reason, after the show he just pulled to get noticed by this man.

“Hm,” Geralt hums and because it comes with a small smile, Jaskier translates it as _nice to meet you, too_. “Thursday then,” Geralt adds at last. With a sharp nod, he turns away and crosses the street.

“Yeah, Thursday. See you!” Jaskier calls after him and watches how Geralt walks towards his family.

Their daughter runs the last few steps and Geralt catches her in his arms, swirls her around like she’s a little kid and not a young adult. Eskel laughs heartily and so loudly, that Jaskier can hear it clearly from across the street, then he spreads his arms and hugs both of them into a strong embrace.

To Jaskier, watching this little family reunion scene feels like a gut punch.

He’s achieved many things in his life, and he’s proud of them all. He has made it through college with two degrees, one PhD, and eventually a position as a professor. He’s financed most of that by playing live gigs in pubs at night. He’s got a job he loves, a hobby he’s passionate about. He can sing a thousand love songs, write a thousand more and move the crowds to tears. But he’s never had this. Doesn’t think anyone would ever let him stay long enough to feel like he belongs the way those three belong to each other.

He doesn’t want them to see him staring, so he turns and slowly walks back to the pub. Jaskier is at the door, his hand already on the knob, when a horn honks behind him. His head turns instinctively and he makes out three waving hands as the black four-by-four accelerates down the street.

He looks forward to Thursday, that much is clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Kudos and comments or questions about this verse are more than welcome. Let's connect and spread positivity during these difficult times!


	2. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is peachy, really it is! Well, apart from the fact that he can’t stop thinking about meeting Geralt again, and get to know Eskel since he’s in charge of the goats. Maybe he even gets to meet the rest of the family. It’s been a long few days and Jaskier is annoyed with himself that he apparently has made it into such a big deal.

Morhen is a lovely town. The people are genuinely friendly, everyone has welcomed Jaskier as the new vet with open arms and he’s got plenty of welcome gifts lined up on the windowsill of his room — most of them goat and mare’s milk soap bars in very creative shapes, as well as some bottles of liquor from the very farm he's about to visit today. They are all labelled with a kid’s drawing of a rainbow.

Everything is peachy, really it is! Well, apart from the fact that he can’t stop thinking about meeting Geralt again, and get to know Eskel since he’s in charge of the goats. Maybe he even gets to meet the rest of the family. It’s been a long few days and Jaskier is annoyed with himself that he apparently has made it into such a big deal.

He realises he must have miscalculated the distance to the farm when he cycles through the woods, the last houses of the town long behind him and the road through Morhen Valley steeply rising before him. He should probably invest in a car, or a least in a new bike.

When he finally makes it up the hillside that didn’t look this fucking high from afar, he’s sweaty and out of breath. He gets off his bike and pushes it towards a large wooden gate, which seems to be the entrance to the farm that is surrounded by a thick stone wall. It would look terribly intimidating if the gate wasn’t painted in a way that makes it look like a giant rainbow.

 _Rainbow Farm_ it says on the big iron knocker which has the shape of a unicorn’s head. Jaskier smiles as he knocks three times, but then wonders if that’s even audible on the other side. He looks around for an actual doorbell somewhere but ends up knocking again.

“It’s open,” yells a gruff voice from the distance, clearly annoyed, which makes Jaskier feel a shiver of embarrassment roll up his neck. He’s late after all.

Jaskier pushes open the massive gate while simultaneously manoeuvring his bike with the heavy saddlebags through it, and he’s sure it looks clumsy. When he finally makes it through, the gate falls close behind him with a loud bang, making him jump.

He swears under his breath while looking around the large farmyard. There are paddocks on either side of the driveway leading up to various stables, a barn and a big farmhouse. Everything looks neat and well cared for, apart from the wall surrounding it all, which seems to miss quite a few stones here and there.

He pushes his bike further and finally makes out the man who the annoyed voice must belong to. He sits on the fence of a paddock, a herd of goats enclosed by moveable fences behind him, and looks at Jaskier expectantly.

“You’re fucking late,” he says flatly, letting his heels bump against the fence repeatedly as he dangles his legs.

“I’m aware of that, thanks so much for the reminder. It’s quite the drive up here, puh,” Jaskier says, playing his exhaustion up a bit, not giving the man the satisfaction of defending himself further, which seems to be what he intends with his rudeness.

“That’s why it’s always open, no-one ever comes here. Especially not by bike.”

“Well, I’m here now, with my bike,” Jaskier says cheerfully and leans his bike against the fence. “I’m Jaskier, and you must be Lambert. Your attitude precedes you.” Jaskier smiles his friendliest smile, but doesn’t stretch out his hand because he knows it won’t be taken, instead he puts both his hands on his hips.

Lambert blinks, then jumps off the fence in a way that shows off his agility but fails to cover his irritation.

“I’ll get Eskel,” Lambert says dismissively and stomps off across the yard.

Jaskier is pretty sure that it isn’t Eskel that makes him wait a quarter of an hour, but more likely Lambert deliberately not announcing his presence to him right away. He can be patient, if needed, so he sets out the supplies he’s going to need and mentally goes through Mr. Kapalski’s list about the usual procedure of the check-ups at the Rainbow Farm. Jaskier would like to change a few things since he finds some procedures obsolete, and he hopes he can have a good professional discussion about that with Eskel.

He watches the goats while he waits, and there’s a particularly nosy one among them, coming close and nipping at Jaskier’s fashionably ripped jeans through the fence. He kneels down and reaches for her carefully, petting her neck as she doesn’t shy away. She tries nipping at his sleeve now and he laughs, reaching into his pocket for a treat.

“Here you go, sweetie, you like a little treat? Yes, you do! Aren’t you lovely? Yes, you are!”

Finally, Eskel emerges from one of the stables. Jaskier stands and waits, casually leaning against the fence, appreciating the way Eskel’s frankly enormous shoulders move under the soft plaid shirt as he increases his pace once he spots him.

“Jaskier, let me apologise,” Eskel says, looking honestly apologetic. “Lambert’s not good with strangers.” Jaskier barely manages to suppress a snort because it sounds like an owner apologising for his misbehaving kitten.

“It’s ok, I mostly find him adorable,” Jaskier says and smiles as they shake hands. Eskel’s grip is gentle, and even though Jaskier’s hand is not small, it’s enveloped completely when Eskel clasps his other hand on top, holding it between two large, warm palms. Jaskier wishes he would never let go.

“Oh, that’s a good start,” Eskel laughs, deep and rumbling, and Jaskier takes the opportunity to really look at him. Short bangs of black hair frame his face, only partially concealing a scar running from his temple, over his lips down to his chin. The notch on his full, upper lip doesn’t stop him from flashing a bright smile at Jaskier and there’s a gentleness in his whole demeanour that instantly soothes all of Jaskier’s nerves.

“I’m Eskel, good to finally meet you in person,” he says, and after a squeeze, he slowly releases Jaskier’s hand. “Lambert made you wait, right?”

“Yeah, but I’ve had the sweetest company here while I waited,” Jaskier says, looking down at where the goat is trying to get his attention back by giving his knee little headbutts.

“Now that’s Lil’ Bleater. Wouldn’t say she’s got better manners than Lambert, but she seems to have given you a friendlier welcome, at least.”

“Luckily, I’m not easily scared off,” Jaskier says triumphantly, sneaking Lil’ Bleater another treat. “Now let’s get to work,” he says, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

It’s pleasantly easy to work with Eskel. They can talk on a professional level as well as exchange light chit chat and Jaskier gets only a little bit distracted by his rolled-up sleeves which reveal his strong, tanned forearms and the striking red of his shirt complements his complexion just perfectly.

Eskel and Geralt just have a few too many aesthetically pleasing attributes to ignore, which Jaskier tries not to make into a problem. Of course the two most attractive people in town are married. To _each other_! It’s fine, it will be fine, because he’s here for the adventure, and the change, and to make friends. A boy can dream and appreciate the nice things that present themselves to him so handsomely, ok?

“You want to have a look at the horses?” Eskel asks once they are finished and Jaskier is packing up his things.

“With pleasure! This was my last appointment today anyway.”

“Great! Let me just get Lambert so he can move the goats back to the top field, I’ll be right back.”

When Eskel gets back with a scowling Lambert, Jaskier has just finished securing his saddlebags.

“Try not to die on your way down,” Lambert snarls in his direction and jumps over the fence.

“I’ll try my best, thanks for your concern,” Jaskier retorts.

“Don’t listen to him,” Eskel sighs, sounding every bit like the tired, older brother who always apologises for the youngest, misbehaving sibling.

“Stop apologising for him, I honestly don't mind. It’s fun, actually,” Jaskier says and smiles at Lambert who just snorts and stomps off.

“If you say so,” Eskel huffs, surprised. “You really drive around on that rusty thing?” Eskel sounds genuinely concerned about the state of his bike as he takes a closer look.

“I do, and if you must know, it served me well for the past years. This town is so small, I didn’t think I’d actually need a car. Well, at least not as long as the weather behaves.”

“You won’t have fun cycling up here in winter, that much I can tell you.” He seems to ponder that for a moment, but before Jaskier can say anything else, he recovers. “Come on, I’ll show you the stables.”

“Lead the way,” Jaskier says enthusiastically, spreading both his arms into the air in a theatrical fashion.

Eskel snorts. “You’re something.”

“I am something that takes things like that as compliments, thanks,” he flashes Eskel a cheeky smile, then stumbles to follow him as he struts away, shaking his head amusedly.

“Geralt and Ciri are with Roach, Henrietta and Scorpion right now. We’re pretty sure it’s the right time for Henrietta and it’s usually never a hardship with her and Scorpion. She just wants Roach around, they always raise her foal together. Here we are,” Eskel says, leading Jaskier into one of the big stables.

They walk towards a large compartment at the end, which also has access to a little outdoor arena, where two horses are dancing around each other happily and one is watching them from a distance. Geralt and Ciri are leaning side by side watching the horses, both with their forearms braced on the low wall before them, and each has one foot casually hooked behind the other. From behind, with both of their pale, long hair tied to a loose bun at the back of their heads, they look so very much like father and daughter, it’s one of the most endearing sights Jaskier has ever seen. His heart does a little happy flip inside his chest.

Eskel walks straight on, without any hesitation he presses himself between them, one broad hand ruffling Ciri’s hair while the other arm is thrown around Geralt’s shoulders and a kiss is placed on his temple. Ciri ducks her head and laughs, leaves her hair tousled in the now even messier bun and Geralt answers his affections with a kiss to Eskel’s scarred cheek.

His lips linger there, and for a brief intimate moment, Eskel leans into the contact before pulling away slightly.

“I brought company,” Eskel informs them, and they turn their head in unison, looking at Jaskier from over Eskel’s shoulder.

Jaskier gives them a little awkward wave, feels again, just a tiny bit of an intruder, but as Geralt’s lips curl into a small smile and Ciri beams at him, that’s quickly forgotten.

In the end he stays for dinner, which is served at the largest wooden table Jaskier has ever seen.

He meets Lambert’s partner Aiden, who seems to be endlessly amused by Lambert trying to be prickly about their unexpected guest. Aiden tries, and succeeds, to make him smile by planting kisses on his cheek every other minute. Aiden’s affections distract Lambert so thoroughly that Jaskier catches him casually combing stray black curls from his brow back behind his ear, his face unguarded for a moment as his fingers linger in their tender caress. Jaskier learns that the two of them live in a cabin in the woods close by, but always come over for dinner, since that’s the meal they all try to have together as a family, even on very busy days.

There is also Vesemir, who cooked tonight, and gets surprisingly talkative once he notices that Jaskier is honestly interested in his stories. Proudly, he tells him that he’s run the farm for many decades and took first Geralt and then Eskel in as little boys, and later also Lambert. He talks about how his boys travelled the Continent, gained experience by working on farms, animal sanctuaries and the like, and makes his now-grown sons blush and groan with embarrassment. Vesemir has mercy and stops singing their praises then, talks about himself instead and how he has moved into the little cottage by the lake, when his boys took over the farm, but he still works wherever he can be of help.

Afterwards, everyone apart from Lambert agrees that Jaskier should stay the night because it’s too dangerous to drive down the hill at night on _that_ bike.

“Seriously, there’s nothing wrong with my bike!”

“Does it have a functioning lamp?” Geralt asks drily.

“Well, technically, it has a lamp, yes,” Jaskier stammers, rubbing the pads of his fingers together anxiously.

“And practically?”

“Practically, I haven’t tested it in months, but it should be fine.”

“You’re staying.”

“Oh my, you're a bossy one!”

“Just let him go, who cares,” Lambert mutters.

“Shut up, Lambert,” the whole table around him sighs desperately in unison, Aiden giggles and Jaskier only smiles.

“End of discussion, you stay,” Vesemir says and stands, and oddly enough, Jaskier feels compelled to do as he says. “Come on, I’ll show you the guest room.”

* * *

Jaskier comes down late for breakfast and finds only Ciri in the kitchen, eating cereal and reading a textbook. He hasn’t changed Mr. Kapalski’s very liberal opening hours of the clinic, so he’s got time to have tea.

“Bit of a late riser, aren’t you?” Ciri greets him.

“Good morning to you as well, my lady,” Jaskier says and bends down into a courtly bow that makes Ciri laugh.

“Come on, there’s still tea,” she says, gesturing at the teapot in the middle of the table. “Mugs are over there.”

“Thanks.” He grabs a mug from a shelf and sits down at the huge wooden table. “How long are you staying?”

“Just until Sunday, busy college schedule next week.”

“Excellent, so you are free tomorrow night?” Ciri nods and gives him a questioning look. “How about you persuade this whole bunch to come to the pub then, I have promised Molly to perform every Saturday night because apparently, I’m good for business.”

“Oh are you?” Ciri chuckles. “What are you playing?”

“Folk, mostly, and I have to say, I got quite inspired by all the stories I heard last night so there might be a new song if I can get it right in time.”

“A song about us? The others would be horrified,” she laughs brightly. “I’m in!”

“Brilliant,” Jaskier beams. “So now, if you could just give me a little overview of the products you produce here, you see, not purely for my artistic purposes but also to expand my moisturising regimen.”

“Alright, but we need more tea for that,” says Ciri, and pours the rest into her mug before standing up to make some more.

Jaskier takes out his small, wrinkled notebook from the back pocket of his jeans, which he puts there for emergencies like this, and with the tiny pen clutched between his fingers waits for Ciri and more fascinating insights into life on the Rainbow Farm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Kudos and comments or questions about this verse are more than welcome. Let's connect and spread positivity during these difficult times!


	3. Jaskier’s Triumphant Performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier comes down into the barroom whistling, and in excited anticipation, hoping Ciri succeeded to get the rest of the Rainbow Farm family down to the Tipsy Thistle tonight. The pub is already packed when he enters, and he’s of course thrilled that word got around and people want to hear him play, but the happiness that surges through him when he spots them at the corner booth where he first met Geralt, makes something in his stomach flutter funnily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this chapter is so short, I’ll post the next one tomorrow, as a weekend treat. :)

Jaskier comes down into the barroom whistling, and in excited anticipation, hoping Ciri succeeded to get the rest of the Rainbow Farm family down to the Tipsy Thistle tonight. The pub is already packed when he enters, and he’s of course thrilled that word got around and people want to hear him play, but the happiness that surges through him when he spots them at the corner booth where he first met Geralt, makes something in his stomach flutter funnily.

Ciri waves at him as he walks over, and leaning his guitar against the table, he sits down beside her.

“Hey, glad Ciri could convince you all to come,” he says, even though he notices Lambert and Aiden’s absence, which doesn’t surprise him all that much.

“Lambert decided he’d rather sulk around at home alone,” Vesemir shrugs, “so Aiden decided to keep him company. Otherwise he’d be insufferable tomorrow.”

“Give him time, he’ll come around eventually,” Ciri adds.

“Same goes for Geralt,” Eskel teases, while also putting an arm around his husband’s shoulders. Geralt just grunts, but leans into Eskel’s side all the same. This casual intimacy between them is a lovely thing to observe.

“Oh don’t you all worry, I can be patient,” Jaskier says confidently.

Geralt snorts loudly into his pint. “Really?”

Jaskier splutters affronted and presses his hands into his hips.

“Right. Okay,” Jaskier says slowly, because he can be a master of patience for the right reasons. “It’s about time for me to start. I’ll see you guys after my first set.”

“Sure,” Ciri calls after him.

He winks at her and the last thing he hears before he’s out of earshot is Geralt mumbling, “What’s a fucking set?” and a round of laughter from the others.

With a huge grin he gets up on the small elevated floor that can barely be called a stage, and when he strums his guitar loudly, the chattering crowd falls silent. All sets of eyes in the room turn to him and he breathes in the building energy of the room.

Jaskier starts with his catchy opening number before anyone can turn their attention away, and when his gaze falls to that corner booth more than to any other table, he’s sure no-one notices. He stops caring about that altogether when for his next songs, he hops down that little step and continues to sing among the crowd. For Jaskier, everything can be used as a stage and their table does have the best vantage point of the room, so he recklessly finds himself drawn to it.

His newest song will conclude his first set and he’s only a little bit nervous when he strums the first chords of Toss a Coin to Your Farmer. Ciri can’t stop laughing, which spurs him on as he twirls around the room. Eskel and Vesemir wear the same calmly amused expression throughout the song and Geralt just stares at him, sometimes eyeing the people around him who clap along and join in to sing along the chorus after it’s been repeated a few times in astonishment.

The crowd loves the song and Jaskier ends it with a last repetition of the chorus on top of the corner booth table. He bows in all directions, thanks the crowd with breathless words of praise and eventually excuses himself for a short break. As he flops down beside Ciri, people start to toss some change onto the table, which is met with laughter and delight from everyone but Geralt, who tries hiding his blush in his pint.

Jaskier steals the glass away from under his nose and empties it in one drawn-out gulp.

“You’re welcome,” he says grinning, utterly satisfied, and gestures to Molly for another round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Kudos and comments or questions about this verse are more than welcome. Let's connect and spread positivity during these difficult times!


	4. That’s the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life in Morhen continues to be quiet, yet Jaskier finds that oddly exciting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your promised weekend treat! All other chapters are longer and I'll continue posting twice a week, on Tuesdays and (probably) Saturdays.

Life in Morhen continues to be quiet, yet Jaskier finds that oddly exciting. He spends his hours at the clinic chatting with owners of sneezing dogs and giving prep talks about sterilisation and vaccination, and it’s nice.

The town kids bring him all kinds of injured creatures they find in the wilderness and it’s endlessly fascinating when they end up finding some rare species. Together they look them up in textbooks and on the internet and every wild patient gets an entry in a scrapbook that the kids soon call Morhen’s Bestiary.

He gets to know the whole town between work and living and playing at the pub and soon he’s sure he’s at least talked to everyone at least once. Sometimes he makes a half-hearted attempt to look up the residential market in the local newspaper, but he’s lived out of rooms like his current one for most of his life. He’s never wanted any of his family’s money, so he’s made the best out of his talents to make it through college, saving money where he could. He doesn’t need to save anymore, but it’s a good enough room. He’s recently noticed that half of his belongings have made it to the Rainbow Farm’s guest room somehow, and well, that’s just convenient when he spends his nights there a few times a week.

Working in the field mostly consists of visits at the Rainbow Farm, since it’s the biggest one around and they own most of the land in Morhen Valley. He realises soon enough that they are all more than capable not to have to call him for every minor ailment — he has seen their cabinet full of self-made salves and ointments — but they do. Jaskier’s more than happy to go, and often even happier to stay for dinner and the night. By this point, he’s sure they would find a reason for him to stay even if he had finally given in and bought a car.

It’s not that Jaskier needs a reason, nor does he need to be convinced anymore, but late at night, when they’re snuggled up on the sofa together, Eskel and Geralt work like a well-oiled machine when they trade bad weather reports or state dramatically how late and most importantly _dark_ it already is. Every time, Geralt mumbles something about going to check the light on Jaskier’s bike into Eskel’s shoulder, and Eskel pats Jaskier’s feet in his lap, telling him he should rather stay the night because Geralt’s already too tired for that since he did such a good job on that rather exhausting chore today. Like clockwork, Geralt yawns, Eskel kisses him and tells him he’ll follow him to bed once he’s finished the next chapter from the book that rests on Jaskier’s shins. Geralt hums, gets up, ruffles Jaskier’s hair and pads away while Eskel sits with Jaskier a while longer.

The two of them seem to need this weirdly domestic game, so Jaskier plays along and wouldn’t have it any other way. Also, Eskel gives the best foot rubs on the Continent, so there’s that.

Lambert continues to be prickly around him, but somehow his insults have lost their earlier bite over the past months. He hasn’t come to see Jaskier perform at the pub yet, only accompanies the others on different days for a drink or two.

It’s only when he is tasked to help Jaskier find all the stray kittens that find shelter on the farm for their vaccination, that something changes. They work together all afternoon and it’s a mess, chasing after the little furballs that know each and every hiding space. Lambert does too, though, and he’s quick and agile. He performs some heart-stopping manoeuvres that make Jaskier gape and gasp in both admiration and worry. And in the end, when Lambert catches the last one on the barn roof, which he masterfully slides down towards the edge, then jumps and lands with a perfect roll at Jaskier’s feet, presenting him the kitten safely tucked against his chest, he even smiles up at Jaskier proudly.

“Wow, Lambert, that was spectacular!” Jaskier praises, and Lambert looks down at the cat quickly. Jaskier notices the pretty blush on his cheeks anyway.

“Mr. Kapalski’s a good vet,” Lambert mumbles as he secures the little squirming thing in his hands so Jaskier can do his work. A loud squeak, and then it’s done.

“Yes, he is,” Jaskier agrees and scratches the kitten’s head as an apology.

Lambert pets it a moment longer, hums soothingly to calm it down until it starts to purr. He smiles contentedly before letting it hop to the ground and watches as it runs back into the barn.

“But you're not bad, either.”

“Thank you, Lambert,” Jaskier says sincerely.

Lambert nods in his direction without really looking at him, then turns and walks away, leaving Jaskier to clutch at his heart in relieved happiness.

* * *

Lambert turns up at the pub the next Saturday night, and Jaskier finds the table completely packed for once, with Ciri also present this weekend. He flops down on the nearest spot available, that happens to be Eskel’s lap, which is, unsurprisingly, very comfortable.

“Lambert my friend, what a surprise! It’s an honour for me to play for you as well, tonight” Jaskier says cheerfully, liking the way Eskel’s arm snakes around his waist and his hand lands on his knee to keep him seated steadily.

“Calm down. For all I know, you can't even organise a piss-up in a brewery,” Lambert grumbles into his pint, which earns him a soft elbow nudge from Aiden.

“He means he can’t wait to finally hear your songs for himself,” Aiden says with an apologetic smile.

“Well, in that case, I’m keen to hear your review on my performance afterwards, Lambert,” Jaskier says, reaching for Geralt’s pint. Mostly to wet his throat one last time before he starts, but also because it delights him to no end that Geralt’s little grunts of protest have transformed into a huff of acceptance over time.

Jaskier taps Eskel’s hand and he removes it, letting Jaskier stand up so he can start to entertain the crowd that’s already waiting for him impatiently. The spot where Eskel’s hand rested tingles pleasantly until he finishes his set, and he finds Eskel patting his own knee as he walks over afterwards. It’s an invitation he can’t resist, so he sits down on Eskel’s lap again without hesitation.

“Now, Lambert, feel free to tell me what you think. Three words or less,” Jaskier says.

Lambert cocks his head and studies him for a moment. “Good job, blowball,” he smirks.

“Blowball?” Jaskier laughs, not sure what he’s getting at.

“Your shirt,” Lambert says drily, pointing at it.

Jaskier looks down at his bright yellow shirt with a dandelion fluff pattern and already hears the others chuckling.

“Oh, of course. Why, thank you, it’s my lucky shirt! I value your opinion highly, and hope you’ll join us again next Saturday, Bertie.” The nickname earns him the anticipated death glare but he goes on without hesitation. “I’m working on a song about your heroic kitten capture, you know. I’m going to need your professional opinion on that one.” Jaskier says, and winks at him.

Lambert looks away in embarrassment and Aiden kisses his cheek to help him cover the blush, but he does come along every Saturday from then on, and gets adorably flustered every time Jaskier sings The Kitten on the Roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Kudos and comments or questions about this verse are more than welcome. Let's connect and spread positivity during these difficult times!


	5. On the Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can you ride?” Geralt asks, already busy saddling Roach.
> 
> “Yes,” Jaskier says hopefully.
> 
> “Good. Take Scorpion. You can come along if you can keep up,” Geralt says, securing a hunting knife in a sheath on his belt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's adventure time!
> 
> CW for this chapter: animal death, very brief description (canon typical) of a dead animal

Jaskier is doing one of his regular pregnancy checkups on Henrietta. She’s in perfect condition and the roundness of her belly is starting to show. Geralt leans on the gate of her stall, looking fondly over to Roach behind the divider, who watches Jaskier’s every move.

“Geralt, _and Roach_ ,” Jaskier says, looking at her over his shoulder, “I’m happy to inform you both that there’s absolutely no reason to worry. Not at all,” he reassures them, brushing his fingers through Henrietta’s mane. “You’re doing great, my darling, absolutely wonderful,” he adds quietly, petting her neck. Henrietta’s ear twitches in his direction and she nudges his shoulder with her nose affectionately.

Roach nickers, satisfied and happy with that information.

“Hmm,” says Geralt, in a way that Jaskier now knows means he’s pleased as well. Maybe he would have said more, since he’s been opening up to Jaskier’s patient approach rather nicely, but Jaskier doesn’t get the opportunity to find out because they are interrupted by Lambert and Aiden stopping their horses loudly in the yard, shouting for Geralt.

It sounds urgent and Geralt strides out in a quick pace to meet them. Jaskier takes the time to feed Henrietta the apple he brought, before quickly grabbing his bag and following him outside.

“A deer carcass?” Geralt asks puzzled, looking up at Lambert on horseback.

“Yeah, gnawed on. Looks like something had a nice dinner there last night,” Lambert says.

“We haven’t had large carnivores here in Kaedwen for a very long time,” Jaskier says slowly.

“No, not for many decades,” Geralt grumbles.

“But we do have wild cats, even if they are very rare. Maybe it was a lynx,” Jaskier muses, more to himself, trying to make sense of this.

“Couldn’t have been a lynx, the site is quite the mess, actually,” Aiden says. He’s something like the gamekeeper of their lands and Jaskier trusts his judgement on this.

“Where did it happen?” Geralt asks.

“Up on the northern path, not far from the old tower ruin,” Lambert informs him.

“Show me, need to see it for myself. I’ll get Roach,” Geralt says and is already hurrying back into the stable. Jaskier sees an opportunity for an adventure slip through his fingers if he doesn’t act now, and he can’t have that.

“Wait, Geralt! Geralt?” he calls, jogging after him. It’s always jogging after Geralt, this man has a pace like a racehorse and he’s never even breaking a sweat.

“Can you ride?” Geralt asks, already busy saddling Roach.

“Yes,” Jaskier says hopefully.

“Good. Take Scorpion. You can come along if you can keep up,” Geralt says, securing a hunting knife in a sheath on his belt.

“Alright,” Jaskier says, grateful and excited to be invited along.

Thankfully, Eskel is not that much taller than Jaskier, so he doesn’t have to hold up everyone because he has to adjust the stirrups or anything. With practised movements he saddles Scorpion, who knows him well enough by now, and meets the others outside.

They ride for about half an hour up into the mountains where Jaskier has never been so far, passing some of the farm's grazing lands on the way. From up here, the view into the valley is absolutely striking, but Jaskier keeps his eyes on the narrow path. Scorpion seems to know the way though, so basically he just has to hold on. It’s been awhile since he was in the saddle, he’s sure going to feel it tomorrow.

A little further and they slow down and dismount. Jaskier follows the others as they lead the horses away from the path and into the woods until they reach a clearing. The horses are left there grazing, and Aiden leads the way further into the forest, with his hunting rifle strapped over his shoulder

Lambert walks close behind him and Geralt gestures for Jaskier to go after Lambert. Jaskier has to admit that he feels safer this way, with Geralt at his back, than having to trail behind them.

When Aiden stops, bringing his rifle to his front, Lambert steps around him and slowly circles the spot looking out for danger. Geralt is already busy crouching down to look for tracks. Jaskier steps up close to Lambert, whose hands are resting on the two knives strapped to his belt.

“Deer came from this direction,” he hears Geralt mutter from the distance where he walks around the site, inspecting the undergrowth. “Something chased it here. It was hunting alone. Unusual.”

Looking over Lambert’s shoulder, Jaskier can see the bloody remains of a deer, partly devoured. It _is_ messy, there’s too much blood and the wounds around its neck look like the killer didn't quite know how to kill effectively.

Jaskier steps around Lambert to get a better look, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Be careful, blowball.”

“I will,” Jaskier says, petting the hand on his shoulder, and Lambert lets him go.

He kneels down and inspects the wounds closely, and after a while, Geralt joins him there. They study the deer together, both coming to a conclusion.

“A wolf,” they say in unison, looking at each other.

“A lone wolf hunting in our woods? Killing a deer _like this_?” Aiden asks, suspicious.

“Maybe it’s a werewolf,” Jaskier says, all spooky. A failed attempt to lighten up the mood since everyone is just staring at him. “That was a joke, ok? Alright, look. There’s an old wound on the deer’s flank, it was probably limping, or at least couldn’t run as fast as usual. It was easy prey.”

“Must be a young wolf then, not used to hunting at all, or never learned how to. This is not normal wolf behaviour, this is not a pack on the hunt. If it gets any closer to the farmlands, it’ll go for the goats. They’re even easier prey,” Geralt explains, and of course he’s right.

“It probably broke out of a sanctuary or reserve then, it’s just hungry,” Aiden says.

“Yes, good point. Happens now and then,” Lambert says.

“I’ll check with the authorities, see if someone’s missing a wolf,” Jaskier offers.

“Thanks,” Geralt says, patting him on the back. “We should keep watch here, it’ll come back to eat more rather than searching for a wounded deer again. If we want to protect it, we have to capture it now. The next hunter or farmer will simply shoot it down, even if it doesn’t start killing livestock. It’s what always happens, everywhere wolves get reintroduced or return naturally.”

“Yeah, we’ve seen that often enough, sadly. They shoot them in cold blood, then pretend to have seen a feral dog, or that it was self-defence,” Aiden says.

“Humans can be such monsters,” Lambert says quietly.

“Lambert and Aiden, build a simple platform in this tree over there that we can use as a hideout?” Geralt suggests and they both nod in agreement.

“There’s a tranquilliser gun at the clinic, and cages for transportation,” Jaskier provides, not sure how else Geralt plans to capture a wolf. His brain provides him with the image of Geralt setting up several kinds of old fashioned traps in the forest nonetheless.

Geralt looks at him for a long moment as if reevaluating his plan. “Good. Jaskier and I will leave now, we will be back later with the four by four and supplies to relieve you two. Even if unpredictable, I doubt that it will come back before dusk. Take care.”

 _We_. Geralt said _we_.

The ride down happens in a blur. They’re fast, Scorpion racing after Roach at a pace Jaskier isn’t sure he’s ever ridden before and they reach the farm quickly.

“Let’s leave the horses at the stables, I’ll get Vesemir to tend to them and tell him what happened. Would you call Eskel and fill him in?” Geralt’s voice is as steady and calm as ever.

Jaskier’s chest is heaving from the exertion of the ride and probably also from the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “Sure, yeah,” he says, trying to calm his breath. “He’s still helping out at your friend’s farm then?”

“Wanted to come back from Letho’s in a few days. If you tell him we have this under control, he’ll believe you and not leave in a rush.”

“If you say so,” Jaskier says, pulling out his phone. The fact that Geralt trusts him enough to deliver the news to his partner of over twenty years makes him oddly proud.

“I do,” Geralt says, already halfway out of the stables.

* * *

They drive back with the car full of supplies and drop some things off at an old, unused game enclosure, where Vesemir will soon arrive to make it suitable for the new guest. Geralt is awfully optimistic that they will be able to catch the wolf tonight.

Jaskier checks the clock and hastily searches for his phone. Geralt gives him a little bemused snort.

“Eskel talked you into texting him hourly updates?”

“Yes,” Jaskier says a little nervously. Eskel had promised not to drive home hastily during the night if Jaskier kept him updated.

“‘Course he did,” Geralt laughs fondly. “It’s a family thing.”

 _A family thing._ Jaskier apparently gets involved in family things now, he realises, as he types his little report.

“We worked in many places all over the Continent before mobile phones were what they are today. Was difficult to keep in touch,” Geralt continues, eyes fixed on the road before them. “Vesemir asked us to give him reports once we got to a new place, wanted to make sure we were safe. He used to have a notebook with all the current landline numbers from where each of us was at the time, with additional notes about time zones. Whenever we felt the need to know the other was safe, we could simply look for the number and call.”

Geralt pauses for a while, smiling to himself. Jaskier finds Geralt in monologue mode utterly fascinating. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, no-one ever interrupts him.

“Ciri had a mobile phone once she got old enough. Used to text us when she went out into the woods alone, to prove that she could be out there on her own without us. Then she started to go out with friends at night, sometimes to the city. We never asked but she always let us know that she was ok at some point. Eskel checked his phone every 10 minutes from the moment she left the house.”

“Bet you checked it every 5,” Jaskier says, smiling fondly at the image of the two of them as nervous dads.

“Did he just tell you that?” Geralt grunts.

“Nope, figured that one out myself. You both seem to be the protective type, but I don’t think you’d stay put somewhere, if the roles were reversed right now.”

“It’s not a lack of trust,” Geralt says quietly, almost defensively.

“That’s not what I meant, Geralt.”

“All our issues may have different roots, but in the end, we all crave the reassurance that our loved ones are safe, when we can’t be with them, can’t protect them.”

“I’ll let him know that I’ll keep an eye on you then,” Jaskier says, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“He’ll still leave there first thing in the morning, but your texts will keep him calm enough.” Geralt pauses, then turns his head and looks at Jaskier for a short moment before turning his attention back to the road. “Tell him we’ll keep an eye on each other, then he’ll sleep better.”

“...on each other. Right,” Jaskier whispers as he types. He tries his best to sneakily take a quick picture of Geralt in the driver’s seat, looking all serious, and sends it with the text.

* * *

“Geralt, I have to say, this whole setup looks exceedingly professional,” Jaskier says, looking around the small hide the others have built into a nearby tree.

“It’s mostly your equipment.”

“Well, Mr. Kapalski’s equipment, technically,” Jaskier says. Geralt had bought some camouflage nets to cover the platform in the trees, some flashlights, a few camping mats so they could sit more comfortably, and sleeping bags to keep them warm. But all the actual equipment came from the storage room in the clinic. They found the big cage and the tranquilliser gun with the fitting darts, a microchip reader and night vision glasses.

“It’s your clinic now, so your equipment,” Geralt grumbles while checking the gun in what looks like a very professional manner.

Eskel’s response to that first pic was to keep the pictures coming, so Jaskier snaps one of Geralt sitting cross-legged in the hide, inspecting the gun.

“Alright. Yes. But, can you shoot with this thing? Because I was trained to, so I know how to use it, but I’ve no practise, especially not in the dark,” Jaskier says nervously.

“I can shoot with this thing, yes. It’s a full moon tonight, clear sky, should be able to see enough to hit it from a small distance,” Geralt explains calmly.

“It’s a fucking full _what_? Geralt! You seriously let me make a werewolf joke earlier, knowing it’s a full moon tonight?” Jaskier has one finger pointed at Geralt and the other hand on his hip, but sitting down in this small space he can’t act it out in the dramatic flourish it deserves.

“Wanted to see your reaction once you found out. Worth it,” Geralt says, smirking mischievously.

“ _You_ —,” Jaskier inhales sharply, trying to think of the most fitting insult.

“Quiet now. We’re on a hunt, remember?” Geralt whispers, petting his knee.

“Oh. Yes. Sure,” Jaskier says, releasing that breath again carefully. “Would have packed some silver if I’d known,” he mutters mostly to himself.

“That’s what you get for only wearing gold jewellery.”

“I’ll have you know that gold compliments my complexion,” Jaskier hisses as quietly as he can.

“You're unbelievable,” Geralt chuckles.

Jaskier makes some rather undignified huffing noises and then decides to distract himself by checking his emails. Realising that Geralt’s warm hand hasn’t left his knee yet doesn’t really help him to calm down, though.

“No news, still no wolf missing officially,” he says eventually. He’s reached out to several institutions with their current problem, and they all assured him they would keep looking and tell him as soon as they found out where a wolf could have escaped from. If they are lucky, it’ll have a microchip, which will tell them about the wolf’s origins.

They wait in silence for a while, sitting side by side, listening and watching, taking turns with the night vision glasses. The sun has set completely and now Jaskier can see the full moon in the gaps of the treetops.

It really feels like a proper adventure, especially with the cold creeping in now. Geralt must have noticed his shivering because he zips open a sleeping bag and drapes it over their shoulders, huddling against Jaskier.

Jaskier succeeds in getting Geralt to talk quietly about similar hunts he’s been on and gets a few stories out of him. Basic information mostly, because Geralt does the opposite of exaggerating when telling stories, but it’s enough that Jaskier can weave a few exciting threads into them to make a dramatic ballad or a nice upbeat song out of the heroic tale.

At some point he must have dozed off on Geralt’s shoulder, because that’s where he’s jerked awake from, suddenly. All he can see, squinting into the pale moonlight, is Geralt aiming with the gun, then he hears a high pitched, animalistic whine, and then a thud.

Geralt lowers the gun and Jaskier stares.

“You hit it,” Jaskier whispers.

“No need to whisper anymore,” Geralt says and climbs down from the tree.

Jaskier follows him hastily, torchlight in his mouth because unlike some unnecessarily cool people, he needs both his hands for climbing _and_ some light to see where he’s going.

He catches up to Geralt and is nearly blinded by the amount of white fur reflecting the moonlight, lying at his feet.

The white wolf is breathing calmly and Jaskier kneels beside him to quickly check him over.

“He’s not in a brilliant condition, I have to say. Too thin, must have had trouble finding food for a few weeks now. But otherwise, he doesn’t look sick or injured, just too weak,” Jaskier says.

“He’s young, barely mature,” Geralt says, then steps away. “Let’s see if he’s chipped and then let’s get him into the cage quickly before he wakes up. He should be out for a good while but I’m not taking any unnecessary risks. Talk later.”

“Yes, of course,” Jaskier says, but lingers for a moment longer, petting carefully down the wolf’s neck. “We’ll take good care of you, I promise,” he whispers, before he stands up.

There is no chip, and they don’t talk about it. They both know it means this is not a wolf that escaped from some official place, but that it has to do with something ugly like animal trafficking or illegal animal housing.

After they have successfully heaved the heavy animal into the cage on the back of the car, they make some calls. Geralt calls Vesemir first, because the priority right now is to release the wolf into the enclosure, and then for Lambert and Aiden to come and help them there. Jaskier calls Eskel, because he promised him in case they catch the wolf during the night, but after that he just writes some short emails to his contacts since it’s still the middle of the night.

And then, finally, in the first dim light of day, they all wait quietly in the distance for the wolf to wake up and leave the cage to explore his new temporary home.

Everyone is quiet, simply sitting side by side and waiting while only the birds sing their morning song as the wolf stirs and slowly sways out of the cage. He's cautious and on alert, doesn't limp and looks fit enough for Jaskier to not be concerned about his health.

The magic of the moment vanishes as he disappears from their view in the thicket.

Vesemir has installed something like a simple double gate, so they can now remove the cage safely. There are also a few video cameras recording everything and giving them the opportunity to monitor the wolf's behaviour via livestream should he come into view of the cameras. There's nothing left to do here, so they all leave for the farm, except for Aiden, who goes hunting a nice fresh meal for their new guest.

Jaskier is so exhausted, he falls asleep during the fifteen-minute drive back to the farm.

Lambert and Vesemir have already arrived and Geralt is quick to leave the car, so when he drags himself out, rubbing his eyes and stumbling sleepily across the yard, it takes him a few steps to register that Eskel is back.

He has got Lambert in a tight embrace, one hand on the back of his head and the other around his shoulders. Eskel presses him close to his chest and with his nose buried in his hair, he mumbles something unintelligible. Jaskier can’t make out Lambert’s answer either, but he can hear Eskel’s deep intake of breath before he lets him go.

Next is Geralt, who fills up the space Lambert leaves immediately. Jaskier stands a few steps away, rooted on the spot, because what he is witnessing turns his world upside down.

He’s seen them touch casually and affectionately, has seen them kiss chastely and deeply, even seen them make out in the stables on one memorable occasion. But this is unlike anything Jaskier has seen before, and he thought he’d seen and done it all. This is raw passion, this is longing — no _belonging_ — this is _love_.

Their embrace is tight and all-encompassing, but not clingy. Their kiss is deep and fierce, but not filthy. This is the reunion of two lovers who know each other inside out, know what exactly the other needs to reconnect after time spent apart, to reassure after time spent worrying.

And when it’s over and they pull away from each other slowly, Eskel turns his head, searching, and finally spots him staring. He is on him in seconds, hugging Jaskier close and breathing him in, just like he did with the others before. All Jaskier can do in his overwhelmed state is hold on to Eskel’s massive shoulders for dear life and he knows it must look desperate but doesn’t care.

When Eskel draws away slightly, he places a gentle kiss on Jaskier’s cheek, very close to the corner of his mouth and Jaskier is sure he can taste Geralt on his breath. Before he lets go of him, Eskel’s thumb drags softly over the place he just kissed.

“Please stay today, I’d like to know you’re all safe at home. Now off to bed with you and have a nice nap. You look like you could fall asleep on the spot,” Eskel says softly.

Jaskier feels drunk on emotions and dizzy with sleepiness. He looks into Eskel’s gentle eyes and nods, relieved when one arm returns to his shoulder to guide him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Kudos and comments or questions about this verse are more than welcome. Let's connect and spread positivity during these difficult times!


	6. Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let’s get some rest,” Eskel says, after they led Jaskier safely into the guestroom.
> 
> Geralt doesn’t want to get some rest, even though he feels the fatigue creeping into his bones now that the adrenaline is finally wearing off. There is too much that needs to be doing right now. Although he supposes they do have to wait until Jaskier figures things out with the authorities and his contacts before they can do anything more for the wolf. However, with Eskel’s insistent hands on his hips, pushing him towards their bedroom, he thinks sleep is not the kind of rest Eskel had in mind. Not yet, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are curious about what's going on in Geralt's mind, you are going to find out in this chapter.  
> Oh, and this fic is about to earn its rating... ;)

“Let’s get some rest,” Eskel says, after they led Jaskier safely into the guestroom.

Geralt doesn’t want to get some rest, even though he feels the fatigue creeping into his bones now that the adrenaline is finally wearing off. There is too much that needs to be doing right now. Although he supposes they do have to wait until Jaskier figures things out with the authorities and his contacts before they can do anything more for the wolf. However, with Eskel’s insistent hands on his hips, pushing him towards their bedroom, he thinks sleep is not the kind of rest Eskel had in mind. Not yet, anyway.

When he is pressed against the inside of their bedroom door and kissed deeply, Geralt is already pretty eager for this kind of rest, especially after some time apart.

“Hmm, missed me that much?” Geralt murmurs when Eskel releases his lips to mouth down the length of his throat. He tilts his head to give him more room.

“Always, Geralt. Drove me fucking crazy, thinking about you planning a wolf hunt,” Eskel says, tugging down the collar of Geralt’s black shirt and licking past it. His other hand, he shoves under the hem and up his stomach. With a firm touch and experienced fingers, he makes Geralt gasp. “Being all competent and fearless. You know what that does to me, and it’s been a while since I saw you in action like that. Distracted me from worrying, too.”

Geralt bares his throat further, and moans when Eskel brushes his nose back up from his collarbone to that sensitive spot below his ear, breathing hot against his skin. Geralt brings his hand up to the back of Eskel’s head to keep him there.

“You knew we had it under control, Jaskier texted you the whole time,” Geralt gasps as Eskel’s hips roll against his in that perfect way and his fingers find a nipple to rub on. “Fuck, but I missed you too,” he admits, because Eskel’s touch has never, not after over two decades, stopped leaving sparks in its wake.

“Oh yes, he did so well. Even sent me some pictures of you looking all professional, told me you’d look out for each other. My fantasy ran a bit wild at that, I have to admit,” Eskel says, then bites down gently on Geralt’s earlobe. When he releases it, it’s to push Geralt’s shirt over his head and yank his own off after.

They resettle against each other easily, shifting so they both have the other’s thigh to press against between their legs.

“You and your dirty mind,” Geralt laughs, hands stroking Eskel’s broad back, enjoying his warmth and the strength he knows lies under his soft skin.

“Couldn’t help it, too tempting,” Eskel says, hands circling Geralt’s waist and pulling him away from the door to walk him over to the bed.

Geralt goes easily, always where Eskel leads him, and his fingers dig into the meat of his hips as they fall onto the bed. Eskel lands on top of him, always cautious not to crush him, and brushes their noses together. Geralt closes his eyes and sighs contentedly.

They lose themselves in a series of deep kisses, while their hands roam each other’s bodies and they grind against each other in a familiar fashion, until Eskel draws away, mouthing down Geralt’s chest.

“You think about him too, Geralt, don't you?” Eskel asks, nipping at a nipple and making Geralt’s hips buck.

“Yeah, you know I do,” Geralt sighs weakly. It’s impossible not to think about Jaskier, when it looks just so right when he sits in Eskel’s lap like he belongs there, strong arms holding him close.

“Saw you looking often enough and know for a fact your mind is just as dirty as mine.” Eskel moans hungrily as he drags both hands over Geralt’s pecs and licks his way down, dipping his tongue into his belly button. “You should let him sit in your lap too, sometime. He’s so lovely.”

Geralt pushes a hand into Eskel’s hair, guiding him further down until his nose catches on the waistband of his trousers. He looks down and Eskel grins up at him as he undoes his fly, licking his lips. Throwing his head back again, Geralt groans loudly. Would Jaskier sitting in his own lap look just as right?

“Like it when I see you touching him,” Geralt says, panting now that Eskel peels off his trousers and boxers, then settles between his spread legs equally naked, his hot palms now stroking up and down his thighs. “You almost kissed him earlier. Wish you had. Bet it would have made him happy,” Geralt says, and his breath hitches with the last word as Eskel presses his lips to the tip of his hard cock.

Geralt shudders as Eskel withdraws again to speak. “Yeah, he’d have liked that, I’m sure. Would it make you happy too? If I kissed him? Or if he kissed you?”

Geralt hums, lost in pleasure and fantasies and the familiar intimacy of Eskel’s voice and touch. There is another light touch on his cock, this time Eskel licks the drops of precome from the slit and Geralt whimpers.

“He'd be so lovely between us, he'd fit so well,” Eskel says, and licks him again, ever so lightly. “The things we could do together, imagine.”

Geralt closes his eyes and lets his fantasy go wild. Eskel doesn’t say more, knowing Geralt’s imagination is providing him with enough ideas right now that additional input would be overwhelming. He lets his mind wander, thinking about Jaskier’s hands, so gentle with animals and so precise on his guitar, how would they feel on his skin?

When Eskel starts licking slowly up and down his shaft, Geralt moans deeply as his fantasy provides him with the image of Eskel kissing Jaskier.

Eskel takes him into his mouth then, sucks him expertly for a few glorious minutes before Geralt reaches for him, tugging at his shoulder because he’s too far away like this. “Come up here, need to kiss you.”

Eskel crawls up his body, bracing himself on one elbow over Geralt’s shoulder, his forearm curling around Geralt’s head as he kisses him. “I’m here,” he whispers against his lips as his other hand finds his cock and Geralt melts into the mattress.

Geralt licks into Eskel’s mouth, one hand on his nape to keep him within kissing distance, the other digging into the meat of his arse. Only a few strokes of Eskel’s big hand touching him just right and he’s close, so close, and he whines with the ache of it.

Between kisses, there are more whispers, words of praise and love. “My wolf-catcher. So beautiful. So strong. My love.” Geralt floats on them for a moment, before they push him over the edge and he presses his body so hard up into Eskel’s, that he has trouble stroking him through it properly. It’s not important, he just needs him as close as possible as the pleasure consumes him.

And then Eskel gasps into his mouth, his breath catching in his throat and Geralt lets go, slumps breathlessly back down on the bed. There is the drag of Eskel’s neglected cock hard against his stomach, rutting as he pants into his neck and Geralt decides he has to do something about it right now. With a well-practised move, he twists them around, kisses Eskel once more before sliding down his body, burying his face into his crotch as he hooks Eskel’s legs over his shoulders. Geralt enjoys the heavy feeling of them, loves how they envelop him, keep him close, when Eskel crosses his ankles on his back.

A deep moan rumbles in Eskel’s chest as he takes his cock deep into his mouth.

“Oh fuck, Geralt. Almost there, almost came just from watching you,” Eskel says, breathing hard

Geralt pulls off and looks at him, his gentle eyes blown wide and gleaming with happiness, a sight to behold. “I know, but you deserve more.”

Wrapping one hand around the base of his cock, Geralt sucks him down again, deep and steady, drawing it out a little bit longer to enjoy Eskel’s deep moans. When Geralt finally lets his fingers dance lightly over Eskel’s tight balls before cupping them firmly, he knows that’s all it’s going to take right now to make him peak.

Eskel grunts a few times, and Geralt feels his legs twitch on his shoulders before he shakes apart, moaning Geralt’s name. Geralt swallows eagerly, licks him clean and his fingers keep on rubbing lightly until all the tension leaves Eskel’s body. Geralt eases his legs down, giving the insides of his knees a gentle kiss each. Grabbing a tissue from the nightstand, he quickly wipes the mess from his own abdomen, then throws himself half on top of Eskel with an exhausted groan and rests his head on his chest.

Eskel brings an arm around him, holds him and runs his fingers up and down his arm as they both calm down. Lulled in by Eskel’s steady breathing, feeling utterly content, Geralt’s mind drifts towards Jaskier again.

“He already fits well when he's with us,” he muses, thinking about shared breakfasts and dinners, about working together on the farm, nights at the pub and on their sofa.

“We should tell him,” Eskel says. “I don’t think he allows himself to believe that he’s already part of the family. He wants to be, but he keeps that modicum of distance and pretends to still live at the pub. Not a shy bone in that boy's body, but this is where he chooses to get all timid.”

“We're both shit at that kind of talk. It’s where _we_ get shy,” Geralt points out, because it’s true. How many times has he thought nice things about Jaskier, but when he tries to voice them, they come out all wrong, so he mostly keeps them to himself. “You’re better at showing it physically, at least.”

“He hugged me back so desperately, Geralt,” Eskel sighs deeply.

“I saw.”

“When we’ve got all this new wolf business settled, I'll ask him if he wants to move in with us and maybe things will progress naturally then?”

“Don’t know, maybe he doesn’t want progress.”

“Well, we’ll find out. Anyway, he needs to know he’s loved, and that there’s a place here for him, whatever he wants that place to be,” Eskel says, pressing his lips into Geralt’s hair.

“Hmm.” Geralt thinks about that for a while, about how they had shared their bed, every now and then, with other lovely people in their youth. Adopting Ciri had made them travel less, and they started to focus on developing their own farm, their home. So there simply weren’t any mentionable opportunities anymore. “Been so long since we involved anyone else, but it was always casual then. It’s not going to be like that with Jaskier.”

“No, he's too important to us as it is. Don’t think too hard about it now, get a bit of sleep. I’ll handle asking him, and in the meantime, you and I are both on the same page and can enjoy a little fantasy." Eskel grabs the duvet and drapes it over them.

“We’ve never not been on the same page, Eskel,” Geralt mumbles into his chest, eyes already closed.

“I know, love, I know.” It’s the last thing Geralt hears before sleep overtakes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Kudos and comments or questions about this verse are more than welcome. Let's connect and spread positivity during these difficult times!


	7. Howling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hours later, after Jaskier has slept away most of the day and they are all in the kitchen ready to have dinner, when they hear it.

It’s hours later, after Jaskier has slept away most of the day and they are all in the kitchen ready to have dinner, when they hear it.

Eskel hears it first, signalling the others to be quiet with a hand raised in the air. It’s a deep, long-lasting sound, and only when Eskel yanks the large window open, does Jaskier catch on what it is.

Howling.

Jaskier, Aiden and Lambert crowd Eskel in the window to hear better and Geralt twists the open laptop around to check on the cameras, but quickly shakes his head. No surprise, the enclosure is big and they only have three cameras so far.

After a short break the howling begins anew, but Jaskier can make out that it’s not the same voice. It’s an answering howl, and not a singular one. He closes his eyes, and concentrates on the different voices.

“Three,” Jaskier says. ”Three wolves are answering him.”

“They are close, they will come to him,” Eskel says.

“I have a plan,” Geralt says, watching the cameras closely. “He hasn’t found his food yet, it’s still where Aiden left it close to the gates. He’ll come there soon, we know he’s hungry and he’ll call his pack. We leave the outside gate open, put some more food into the channel, trap them there and then release them into the enclosure.”

Everyone seems to consider that for a moment and a murmur of agreement settles the matter.

“Alright. Lambert, you’re coming with me. I’ll take the tranquilliser gun in case something goes wrong, and you’re in charge of the gates. Let’s grab some food for the way,” Geralt says and rises.

“No rest for the wicked, it seems,” Lambert sighs but sounds excited nonetheless.

“Not to be the spoilsport here, especially since you all seem quite accustomed to situations like this, but doesn’t this sound awfully dangerous?” Jaskier asks tentatively, watching Aiden give Lambert an encouraging hug, seemingly as unconcerned as anyone else in the room.

Lambert shrugs. “Geralt will find a safe spot from where he can protect me, and I’ll be hiding in that tree overhanging the fence. I can easily climb along the fence to handle the gates in a few seconds once they are all in there.”

“They did something similar in Skellige once, they know what they are doing,” Eskel says, lying a soothing hand on Jaskier’s shoulder.

“Those two need the thrill sometimes. The action, you know? So we let them have that, it’s why they’re the best team for the job,” Aiden says, quickly preparing two sandwiches and pressing them into Lambert and Geralt’s hands. “Well, at least we get to eat in peace.”

“We’ll be watching you,” Eskel says as Geralt steps closer to kiss him on the mouth. Jaskier is still right there, held in place by Eskel’s hand on his shoulder, which is now covered by Geralt's as well, and stares stupidly as their lips touch right before his face.

“Go get ‘em, wolf-catcher,” Eskel says and Geralt winks lewdly at him. Eskel licks his lips as he watches Geralt walk out of the door and Jaskier is glad for that hand that still has a hold on his shoulder, because he feels a bit lightheaded, having witnessed this interaction up close.

A moment later and Jaskier finds himself pushed in front of the laptop, with Eskel and Aiden pressed against his sides to have a good view of the happenings. Vesemir comes into the kitchen a few minutes later and sits down beside Eskel, who quickly fills him in.

“They should arrive any minute now,” Vesemir says, squinting at the screen. “I can’t see shit.”

“Come here, Jaskier,” Eskel says, pulling Jaskier into his lap so Vesemir gets a better view. Jaskier doesn’t protest, he never does, just enjoys the way both of Eskel’s arms circle his waist. It feels so nice to be held close like this.

They watch them arrive and set everything up as planned, and then Geralt vanishes from view. The camera is thankfully at the right angle so they can see Lambert quickly climbing up the tree and making obscene gestures towards the camera.

“He’s such a dick,” Aiden says fondly with a dreamy look on his face, and then goes to prepare them all plates with the venison stew that he’s been cooking all afternoon.

They eat like this, eyes glued to the screen, watching the three different camera tabs where nothing happens for a good long while.

When Jaskier squeezes Eskel’s hand for comfort, he hums into his ear in that deep, soothing voice and presses forward, hugs him even closer. With Eskel’s head now resting on his shoulder, Jaskier can feel his breath against the side of his neck and he feels a warm shiver running down his spine.

The window is still wide open and they hear the wolves howling twice before the one behind the fence finally comes into view of the camera by the gates and finds his food.

Their plates long empty and forgotten, they watch in silence as he sniffs and licks, takes some bites and then howls, hopefully telling the rest of his pack that he found something nice to share. It doesn’t take long for them to arrive.

It all happens in a blur. In a matter of what can’t be more than a minute, the three new wolves step through the first gate, drawn in by the tempting food lying there. Lambert jumps out of the tree, balancing over the high fence as if it’s nothing, and does exactly what he said he would.

The wolves reunite, don’t even acknowledge his presence or the fact that they’ve been caught, too busy sniffing and licking their lost friend.

Lambert jumps down from the fence as elegant as ever, takes a deep bow towards the camera and gives them a dorky thumbs-up, making them all laugh in relief.

“So now we have four wolves,” Jaskier says, not quite believing it yet.

“Yeah, and if I have to feed them all, this is going to be the last venison stew for us, guys. Enjoy it while you can,” Aiden says, and goes to refill their plates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Kudos and comments or questions about this verse are more than welcome. Let's connect and spread positivity during these difficult times!
> 
> A big thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments! It makes me so happy to know this story is loved and everyone is welcome to talk to me about it here or on tumblr.


	8. Noodles and Pyjamas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following weeks are just as exhausting as Jaskier imagined they would be, with four wolves under their care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little heads up: we are about to interrupt the fluff for a bit of angst!

The following weeks are just as exhausting as Jaskier imagined they would be, with four wolves under their care.

Everyone at the farm is busy making sure the enclosure is safe, that the wolves have enough to eat and they all take turns monitoring their behaviour — all of that besides the normal day to day farm work. There is now an official investigation going on, of course, with all of them having to make statements to the police, but there are no results so far.

And Jaskier, beside his work at the clinic, also takes care of all the logistics and bureaucracy. There is so much paperwork to do for the authorities, which Jaskier makes sure to handle most of before it even gets to Geralt and Eskel, so as not to burden them with such tedious tasks.

It’s why he stays in town and in the clinic mostly, just occasionally drives up into Morhen Valley to watch the wolves up close. They seem to have no fear of humans, which is at least a sign that they hadn’t been treated badly at the place they were before, and they look fitter with every meal Aiden provides for them. All four of them Jaskier estimates are about the same young age, and after watching them for a while and knowing how the deer hunt of that first one went down, they all agree that they couldn’t have grown up in the wild.

The authorities finally agree that until further notice, the wolf pack is officially allowed to stay at the Rainbow Farm. With a last batch of paperwork to get the much-needed funds and benefits done, Jaskier allows himself to agree to come over for dinner that night. Lambert has been texting him for two days that he’d be very cross if he missed his ever so famous nasty noodles dish, as they call it. The only tempting thing about that is the company and the wine, and Lambert fucking well knows that, but how can Jaskier refuse after an endless list of mostly rude, but also some teary-eyed emojis on his phone screen.

Lambert’s noodles turn out as nasty as always, but Jakier looks around the table and as everyone praises Lambert that he only slightly overcooked them this time, and maybe used just a tad too much salt, his heart feels suddenly too big in his chest. He washes down the salty agglomeration in his mouth with a big gulp of cheap red wine and claps Lambert on the shoulder appreciatively.

“Best nasty noodles so far, Bertie,” Jaskier says, and is rewarded with one of Lambert’s rare bashful smiles.

Dinner couldn’t be more perfect, he decides.

* * *

It’s late and Jaskier has had too much of that wine to even consider driving back to the pub. Lately, he’s been using one of the farm’s many vehicles to quickly drive between the clinic, the farm and the enclosure, but he feels pleasantly tipsy and comfortable right now and just doesn’t want to leave. It also means Geralt and Eskel can’t fall back on their old game, but somehow it feels like they don’t need it anymore.

Aiden and Lambert, as well as Vesemir, have already retired for the night after they all cleaned up after dinner, and Jaskier is currently sprawling on the sofa in the living room. Eskel sits on his spot at the other end, reading a book and had pulled Jaskier’s feet into his lap the moment he sat down. His forearms and the book are resting on Jaskier’s shins, the weight of them and his presence so comforting, that Jaskier dozes off like so many times before.

He wakes when the notebook he’s been holding falls on his face and he drops it on the floor, too tired to think about fixing the verses of his new song about the wolves of Morhen Valley. He closes his eyes again, focussing on the quiet sounds in the house.

There is Eskel’s deep and steady breathing, the soft sound of pages being carefully turned. There is Geralt puttering around in the kitchen, probably looking for a sweet treat before bed, and the crackling of the fire from the fireplace. All of these sounds are so familiar, that hearing them makes him feel warm from the inside.

When Geralt’s footfalls come closer, a smooth padding of bare feet across creaky, wooden floorboards, he opens his eyes. Geralt is crossing the room, putting his phone to charge overnight on the sideboard, fiddling with the cable. He’s wearing his normal sleeping attire which consists solely of soft pyjama bottoms and nothing else, no matter the season. Today’s have little horses on them, prancing merrily around each other, and Jaskier remembers they were a gift from Ciri for Geralt’s latest birthday.

He doesn’t know what they do with the tops Geralt never wears, and the reminder that there are still family secrets he doesn’t know yet, sends a little cold shiver down his spine, despite him having felt so warm and at ease just moments ago.

There is so much he doesn’t know; intimate, private things that only happen behind closed bedroom doors. Does Geralt drop the bottoms before going to bed? Are his always bare feet cold and if so, does he press them into Eskel’s calves when they lie in bed? What do their sheets look like? Plain white, some sort of tartan, or do they have fun patterns like Geralt's pyjama bottoms?

Geralt catches Jaskier looking then, and smiles at him, which chases away the cold thoughts again.

“Going to bed now. You coming, Eskel?” Geralt asks, breaking the silence.

Eskel closes the book and sighs contentedly. “In a bit, yeah. You go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

“Alright,” Geralt says and bends down to give Eskel a peck on the lips, before crouching down in front of Jaskier. “Night, Jaskier,” he tells him, smiling. He doesn’t exactly ruffle Jaskier’s hair, it’s more like he carefully brushes his fingers through it a few times, which of course still messes up Jaskier’s artfully tousled hairstyle. Jaskier never minds. “See you tomorrow,” Geralt says finally and stands.

“Good night, Geralt,” Jaskier says, amused, wiping the disarranged strands of hair from his forehead.

 _Tomorrow_. Yes, Jaskier will go to the guest room alone, sleep alone, wake alone, and be grateful for their company again in the morning. _Tomorrow_.

Eskel puts the book away, but the other arm is still resting on Jaskier’s legs, his thumb rubbing back and forth on Jaskier’s jeans.

“Week’s been busy, huh?” Eskel says, conversationally. Jaskier knows him well enough to notice his nervousness in the way his fingers briefly brush over the scars on his cheek, a memory of an accident long past. His hand soon comes to rest on the arch of Jaskier’s socked foot.

“Busy to a shocking extent, yeah. But worth it, it’s going to calm down now and we’ll get used to the needs of our new friends,” Jaskier says.

His body feels stiff from lying in the same position so long so he stretches his arms over his head to prepare his body to get up. The hem of his shirt rides up in the process and Eskel reaches out to pull it down again, but instead of letting go, he rubs the soft fabric between his fingers.

In intimate moments like this, Jaskier never quite knows what to do, and he decided long ago to just roll with it and enjoy them for what they are.

“We missed you, you know,” Eskel says carefully, slowly.

“Bollocks, is there something you needed me for? Did I miss an appointment?” Jaskier sits up partially, bracing himself on his elbows. He tries to remember, but all the paperwork and research and hundreds of phone calls had him quite distracted. “The next check-up on Henrietta should be next week, I think. I looked her over earlier though, just so you know that everything’s fine. Let me check my calendar.”

Eskel stops him as he fumbles for the phone in his pocket by placing his hand on Jaskier’s stomach. “No, not like that. You worked as hard as we all did, and we would have never managed without you. Just missed you being here, your presence. It’s nice to have you back, is all I meant.”

“Ah. Well, I don’t actually live here, but yeah, I can’t miss nasty noodles night. Lambert would never let me live it down and punish me with his absence on Saturday nights at the pub,” Jaskier says, blushing.

“You wouldn’t even get the chance to miss it, if you lived here. ”

“Oh that’s very tempting, Eskel my dear,” Jaskier jokes, swinging his legs from Eskel’s lap to the floor, ready to go to sleep himself.

“I know, then why don’t you move in?”

The question comes so unexpectedly that Jaskier, already half-way into the process of standing up, sinks back down onto the sofa.

“What? Why don’t I do what now?” Jaskier asks, suddenly out of breath.

“Move in with us. I already talked to everyone,” Eskel says, ever so hopeful and gentle that Jaskier wants nothing more than to scream ‘ _Yes’_ and bury his face into Eskel’s soft, inviting neck.

“I—,” Jaskier swallows, rendered speechless, for once.

“You don’t have to decide now, of course not. Sleep on it, give it some thought, and know whatever you decide, we’re always here for you,” Eskel says, still gentle but the nervousness is back in his voice. It sounds more like he’s trying to soothe an animal that’s about to bolt, which doesn’t feel like it’s far from the truth.

There is a big hand on his knee, patting softly, spreading warmth.

“Uh, ok. Thanks, yeah, I’ll think about it,” Jaskier stammers and stares as the hand lifts and takes away all the warmth he so desperately wants to keep.

* * *

Jaskier can’t sleep. He tries to, but doesn’t succeed. His mind races with how much he wants to live here, but on the other hand he feels like a selfish intruder still; ogling Eskel and Geralt in their own home and fantasising about private details, weaving his way into this established, well-functioning family.

He’s been genuinely happy with the way things turned out to be. He’s found friends and adventures, work at the clinic runs smoothly and he has his artistic outlet, too. It’s a sudden revelation that what he desires, now that he has all that, is something he never thought he wanted quite to this extent. Jaskier wants to belong here, wants to belong to them, wants them to belong to him.

No one has ever wanted to keep him, he has never wanted to be kept by anyone.

So what would change if he moved in here?

He craves the little moments of intimacy that Eskel, and sometimes also Geralt, provide, and he’s already started to get a little bit more greedy for them each time. And where would that lead him if he got them on a daily basis? Or if they stopped, one day, because everyone grows tired of him eventually.

Jaskier loves being part of dinner rituals, but if he lived here, he’d have to participate in earnest, wouldn’t he? He’d volunteered to help in the past, but never took full responsibility, never actually cooked a whole meal for this hard-working, hungry bunch. He’s spent time in pub kitchens, so he picked some things up even though he never had his own. He could try to make soup or a proper fry-up and he can learn along the way. He knows that, no matter how it turned out, they would be kind and supportive. They would all eat it with a smile on their faces and isn’t that a scary thought, to be accepted like this?

He’d wash his clothes in the washroom here, where everyone does their laundry. Eskel and Geralt’s sheets would be there, maybe he’d get a glimpse of the mysterious pyjama tops, too.

If he moved in here, Jaskier would find out many of those private little secrets, and would fill in some gaps, which right now are the foundation of his carefully kept distance.

Moving in here would mean he would not be able to run from any of it anymore. There would be more foot rubs and more hair ruffles, there would be cooking and there would be knowledge to fuel his yearning.

Sitting up in his bed, he looks around in the dark guest room. Most of his things are here now, him living here is just not official enough to make him break down his last defences.

He can’t do it. As much as he loves it here, loves them all, he can’t take this last step. They clearly don’t know what they are doing, inviting him in. Jaskier, the singing vet of Oxenfurt, breaker of hearts, marriages, and beds. He doesn’t want to break any of those in this house and that means he can’t possibly live here.

He can’t possibly face them over breakfast tomorrow, either.

Jaskier bolts out of bed, scrambles to the wardrobe and throws most of his belongings into his holdall. He pulls on his jeans, shrugs on his coat, and after slinging the case with his spare guitar over his shoulder, he sneaks outside whilst masterfully avoiding all the floorboards that creak loudest.

Once outside, he goes straight to the shed where he keeps his old bike. Taking one of the cars would mean there’s a reason to return before he needs to, so even though the night is dark and cold, he takes his bike. Geralt never got around to actually check that light, and as it turns out, it doesn’t work. He drives on anyway, knowing each and every turn of the street by now, he could drive down with his eyes closed, which wouldn’t be much darker, considering the moonless night.

He makes it to his room, trembling and panting from both the cold and the exhaustion, and doesn’t bother to switch on the light. He throws his things into one corner and himself on the bed, and falls asleep in his coat and boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/)
> 
> A big thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments! It makes me so happy to know this story is loved and everyone is welcome to talk to me about it here or on tumblr.


	9. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is hiding, it can’t be called anything else. He ran and now he’s hiding like the coward he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the angsty cliffhanger in the last chapter, we're getting back into fluffy territory now, folks!

Jaskier is hiding, it can’t be called anything else. He ran and now he’s hiding like the coward he is.

There are a few tentative texts the next day, which he tries to answer as naturally as possible. Lambert is the one who keeps checking in with him several times a day though, demands Jaskier tell him that he’s alright. So Jaskier tells him he’s fine every time he asks, and after the third time he can see his own lie staring back at him. He knows he’s far from fine, so does Lambert. Still, there are only Lambert’s texts and none of them shows up at the pub. They give him the space for his childish behaviour he doesn’t deserve.

And yet, he can’t bring himself to walk up to Eskel and give him an honest answer. Because that would mean telling him he can’t move in because he’s reached his limit, can’t come closer without destroying something precious, and therefore has to take a step back. Even thinking it hurts.

He can’t hide much longer, though, he’s their vet after all and Henrietta is due soon. The day of her next check-up is fast approaching and he’s getting nervous.

When the day comes, the cool weather has progressed to be a stormy, rainy mess and Jaskier sits in the pub, nursing a cup of tea and watches out the window. The rain is going to soak him to the bone when he goes by bike, even with rain gear. He can almost hear Geralt grumbling about it, lecturing him about safety, knows Eskel would take one look at him, shake his head fondly and invite him in to warm up. Fuck, he misses them.

For a moment he thinks about asking Molly to lend him her car for the afternoon, mostly because he wants to avoid making Geralt and Eskel worry about him, but then realises that he probably has been the cause of their worry for a while now.

He’s yanked out of his dark thoughts when the door bursts open and brings a cold and humid draft into the cosy warmth of the barroom. It’s Lambert, looking grumpy, but he softens as Jaskier stands and throws himself at him in a desperate hug.

“Easy, blowball,” Lambert says, hugging him close.

“Fuck, it’s good to see you, Lambert,” Jaskier sobs, not able to keep his emotions in check.

“Hey, come now, let’s sit,” Lambert says, patting him on the back and guiding him back to the table. “Came to pick you up. Geralt was grumbling about the shit weather and your fucking bike all morning, think he’s going to drive over it with the tractor the next time he sees it.”

“Thanks, for the warning and for coming,” Jaskier chuckles, and wipes at his eyes. “You’re early, though.”

“Figured you might want to talk first,” Lambert says carefully. “Not that I’m the best guy to talk to, but, you know.” Lambert scratches his stubbled chin anxiously, looks a little lost, and Jaskier can’t believe what an idiot he’s been.

“I’m sorry, this shouldn’t be your problem,” Jaskier says, shaking his head at his own stupidity.

“You're full of shit, you know that? ‘Course it’s my problem too, we’re family, you arsehole,” Lambert bumps his fist into Jaskier's shoulder with a little bit too much force, but it does shake Jaskier out of the miserable place he’s talked himself into.

He looks at Lambert in wonder. “Family,” he repeats slowly.

“Yeah, what the fuck did you think?”

“My parents disowned me, what do I know of being part of a family?”

“Makes you a perfect member of ours, we keep collecting idiots like that.”

“Sorry, Lambert, I―,” Jaskier starts, an apologetic speech already forming on the tip of his tongue, when Lambert interrupts him with a firm glare.

“Look, I’m not good with words, that’s your job, but you’re just going to use your pretty words to shower me with apologies, which won’t get us anywhere. So shut up for once and let me tell you a story, right?”

Lambert looks so earnest and determined, Jaskier can only nod weakly.

“Sometimes you’re so used to running, you need someone to stop you, so you can focus on what’s right in front of you. Did you know that it took me two years, and then Geralt buying me a plane ticket and Eskel driving me to the airport by force, to tell Aiden how I felt?”

“No,” Jaskier shakes his head, he's never heard the full story. “Please tell me.”

“Two years of meeting on jobs I didn’t realise he took because he knew I’d be there, two years of casual fucking without me realising it wasn’t casual at all. I’d never been in love before, so how the fuck was I supposed to know what that feels like? Do you know?”

The question hits Jaskier unprepared. “Uh, well, to be honest,” he babbles, thinking about how he falls for people fast, always finds something to love about them, but how he also is able to move on quickly. Never staying, never regretting, never missing them, because there is already someone new and just as lovable in sight. “No, I don’t suppose I do,” he says finally.

Lambert rolls his eyes and swears under his breath.

“Really? It feels like you can’t get properly warm when they’re not with you, and you’re freezing your fucking bollocks off, but you won’t let anyone else near you to warm them instead. Think about that instead of just singing about romantic shit and don’t be as stupid as I was. Aiden had to leave me before I realised. We had so much work here at home, expanding the farm and making it a home for Ciri, that I stopped taking on many other jobs. So Aiden and I, we barely saw each other in the end. Also, I was shit at keeping in touch because I didn’t know how to.

“He came here one day, unannounced, to tell me he couldn’t do it anymore. Told me he had been faithful this whole time but needed to move on now if I wasn’t available for anything more. Can you imagine my surprise realising I hadn’t been fucking anyone else either? Never wanted to after I’d met him, never crossed my fucking mind, but never thought about telling him or what it meant.”

Lambert huffs and shakes his head, as if exasperated with his past self. The pause is long enough for Jaskier to come to the shocking conclusion that he hasn’t slept with anyone in a very long time. He’d had some nice affairs in the first weeks here, just like he always used to have, but the desire to chat up someone new had ebbed and died away the longer he lived here. He downs the rest of his tea, wishing it was something alcoholic instead.

There is a slight smirk to Lambert’s lips, something smug, before he goes on.

“I let him go, can you imagine? If you’d known me then, I think you’d have slapped me in the face and then shoved me into his arms. Geralt and Eskel weren’t that quick on the uptake and it took them a bit, but they located him and put me on my way with the message that we need another worker here and if I didn’t bring him home with me, I’d have to suffer through a year of kitchen duty. Not that they would have survived that, though.”

“So you brought him home?” Jaskier asks, hoping they didn’t have to suffer more before their happy ending.

“I did. Learned my fucking lesson, that love’s worth running to,” Lambert says, and puts an arm around Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier leans into him, glad for the support.

“I’ll make a poet out of you yet, Bertie,” Jaskier says, and to his surprise, manages an honest laugh. Lambert hugs him tighter, squeezes a shaky breath out of his lungs.

“If that’s what it takes to bring you the fuck home, you’re welcome to try. I’d rather have you die trying that, than you rotting away living here out of your suitcase in this drafty excuse of a shithole.”

“Hey,” Molly yells offended from the bar, “I can hear you, Lambert.”

“Sorry Molly, no offence, just trying to make a point here and can’t make your lovely establishment look too appealing right now.”

“None taken, if it means you finally take him with you for good?”

“I intend to, yeah. No one threatened me with kitchen duties this time, but I bet they would come up with something nasty if they found out I fucked this up all on my own,” Lambert says, ducking his head.

“We can’t have that, can we now?” Jaskier says softly, and something heavy inside of him lifts at the realisation at how easy it seems now, to agree and let Lambert take him home.

“Thank fuck,” Lambert mutters, utterly relieved. “Come on, let’s get your things.”

Lambert pulls him up and guides him towards the stairs as if he’s afraid Jaskier is about to bolt.

“I’m going to bring some cardboard boxes up in a bit,” Molly says as they walk past her to get upstairs.

“So eager to see me go? Won’t you miss me?” Jaskier says teasingly.

“Jaskier, you’re lovely, you really are, but these rooms here are not designed to be lived in for so long. I was beginning to honestly worry. And how could I even begin to miss you when you’ll still be here annoyingly often?”

“Ah, sweet Molly, charming as ever. But you see, I’ve lived out of pub rooms and dorms for a long time, and this was one of the most comely ones. Never really had a flat on my own.” Never had a home, he thinks. “So I guess I don’t know what I’m missing out on?”

Molly just shakes her head at him and smiles as Lambert grips him by the arm and drags him upstairs. “It’s about time you find out, blowball.”

* * *

It doesn’t take long to pack up his room and Lambert seems confused.

“That all?” he says, looking around in the tiny space.

“I’ve got a few things in storage. Well, I say storage, it’s all in the Kapalski’s garage. Mostly books, some instruments.”

“Books and instruments, of course,” Lambert laughs. “We’ll get them some other time, yeah? First, let's get those two grumpy old fucks out of their misery and bring you back.”

The way he says it, it sounds light enough, but it still stings.

“Is it that bad?” he asks, because he needs to know.

“Truth?” Lambert asks and Jaskier nods firmly.

“They are sad and worried, they don’t know what to do. Eskel thinks he did something wrong, said something wrong, and that it’s his fault, that he scared you away. Geralt is fussing around trying to make him feel better while missing you just as much.”

“I don’t know what to do to make it up to you all,” Jaskier says, with a heavy heart.

“Coming home is all you need to do. Eh, well, and probably talk to them. Use your pretty words with Eskel and Geralt, they are the ones who need to hear them,” Lambert says, then crosses the room and wraps his arm around Jaskier’s shoulder. “I know how hard it is to accept that people genuinely care about you, love you. We all have fucked up backstories, but Geralt and Eskel have had each other to love for so long, maybe they’ve forgotten how long it can take for someone else.”

“Oh Lambert, thank you”, Jaskier says, and again feels close to tears out of sheer relief.

But Lambert doesn't let him go there, he just claps him on the back once and then steps away, picks up one of the boxes and carries it downstairs.

“Don’t dawdle,” Lambert yells from the hallway in a really good imitation of Vesemir which shakes Jaskier out of his own thoughts.

“Yes, yes, alright,” Jaskier shouts back and chuckles to himself.

He can do it. He can talk to them and be honest. Love’s worth running to, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone who is interested in the long version of Lambert and Aiden's backstory, I'm writing it right now! I'm a slow writer though, so it'll take me a while. I'll put this fic into a series at one point and everyone who doesn't want to miss out on how they met and got together, can subscribe to the series (or to me directly of course). It's going to be long and sexy, with more angst than this one but also enough fluff in between. 
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/)


	10. Shaping His Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With one of the boxes in his arms, Jaskier jogs the few steps from the car towards the door through the patchwork of puddles in the farmyard. The rain is coming down softer now, but it’s still heavy enough to soak his already damp hair to a degree that a few drops run down his forehead. He holds the door open behind him for Lambert with one foot, lets his box drop into the hallway with a heavy thud and wipes the rain from his face with his sleeve.

With one of the boxes in his arms, Jaskier jogs the few steps from the car towards the door through the patchwork of puddles in the farmyard. The rain is coming down softer now, but it’s still heavy enough to soak his already damp hair to a degree that a few drops run down his forehead. He holds the door open behind him for Lambert with one foot, lets his box drop into the hallway with a heavy thud and wipes the rain from his face with his sleeve.

When he uncovers his eyes, it’s to the sight of Eskel’s head peeking through the door at the end of the hallway, eyes just flicking up from the box on the ground up to Jaskier’s face. His expression is carefully guarded as if he’s not sure he’s made the right connection.

Jaskier cocks his head and smiles at him warmly, but can’t help the rising anxiety in his voice. “I heard there’s a vacant room here that only an utter fool would reject. If the offer still stands, and you’ll still have me—”

He doesn’t need to say more because Eskel is already sprinting towards him and Jaskier is embraced by strong arms before he can properly brace himself for the impact. His foot loses its hold on the door, which slams shut behind him, but he can’t move with Eskel draped all over his front. With his face buried in Jaskier’s neck, he takes a few long, deep breaths.

Jaskier wriggles one arm free so he can push his hand into Eskel’s hair, petting it gently.

“Jaskier, I’m sorry,” Eskel whispers unsteadily.

“Me too,” Jaskier says, voice shaking with emotion.

“Eskel?” Geralt shouts from inside the house. “What’s all that noise? I thought you just wanted—”

And now Jaskier can see Geralt too, through black hair clouding his vision, as he slowly walks towards them. All Jaskier can do is raise his hand out of Eskel’s hair in a little wave and Geralt huffs before he puts his arms around them both, leaning against his side. He presses his lips against Jaskier’s damp temple as he does so, and Jaskier’s heart beats faster and faster with every second ticking by.

“This fool here wants to know if we’ll still have him,” Eskel says into Jaskier’s neck, not loosening his hold.

“He’s a fool if he thinks we won’t,” Geralt says, and Jaskier answers with a relieved sob as Geralt ruffles and then kisses his wet hair.

Behind them, there’s a scratching sound at the door, some fumbling, faint noises of Lambert swearing followed by a heavy knock that must have been delivered with a boot.

“Can someone please let him in?” Jaskier says, half into Eskel’s hair. “I wouldn’t be here without him, not mostly dry and with my stuff.”

“Oh Lambert,” Eskel sighs fondly and, apparently not ready to let go, walks them all backwards until he can reach the door handle.

“About fucking time, how nice to see you’re all warm and cosy in here,” Lambert grumbles, kicks the door shut and drops a box on top of the other.

“Sorry, c’mere,” Eskel says gently, and Lambert immediately softens and lets himself be pulled into the hug, now pressed against Jaskier’s other side.

They stand there for a while, until Lambert, ever the fidgety one, breaks the silence.

“Alright, everyone happy again? Because I promised to help Aiden make pizza tonight.”

They let go of each other and Jaskier suddenly finds it a bit difficult to stand on his own.

“Everytime you offer to _help_ him with dinner, it ends up with you two making out in the kitchen,” Geralt snorts.

“ _I know_ ,” Lambert says suggestively and Jaskier can practically hear the eyebrow wiggle.

“Go on Lambert, you’ve earned it,” Jaskier says and shoves him into the direction of the kitchen. “I don’t need the rest of my things tonight, I’ll just get the rest out of the car tomorrow.”

Lambert grins at him. “See you at dinner then,” he says and swaggers off.

Which leaves the rest of them standing awkwardly close in the middle of the hallway.

“Right, erm,” Jaskier starts nervously, kneading his hands together. “I thought, as an apology and a little move-in celebration, I’ll make dinner on Sunday, yeah?” He shuffles his feet, thinking about Lambert saying he didn’t need to make up for anything, but he wants to. “I’ll ask Ciri too, it would be lovely if she could join us.”

“Good plan,” Eskel says, his eyes bright and happy.

Geralt chuckles, slings an arm around Jaskier’s waist, tugs him against his side and hums approvingly. This close, Jaskier can feel his own body reverberating with the low vibration of it and is suddenly aware of how much more physically affectionate Geralt is being. Well, Lambert said they had both missed him and he assumes they all need a bit of reassurance right now, so he slings his arm around Geralt’s back and curls it loosely around him.

The contact boosts his courage, but he still ducks his head to avoid eye-contact when he speaks.

“Thanks for inviting me to live with you. I just panicked. No-one has ever asked me such a life-changing question before. I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d worry so much, but Lambert said —”

Jaskier feels Geralt’s arm tighten around him as he fails to conjure up more of his pretty words. Eskel steps closer to push the wet strands of hair off his forehead.

“He said we worried about you?” Eskel helps him out, then strokes his hand gently down Jaskier’s face to cup his cheek. A tiny twist of his wrist changes the angle of Jaskier’s gaze and their eyes meet. “Yeah, we did. But we also knew you’d need time to think about it. And I meant it when I said that no matter what you decide, there’s always a place here for you. Now I’d say you just settle in here, and then, after a while, maybe think about what exactly you want this place to be for _you_ , yes?”

“Yes, I will. Thanks,” Jaskier says, holding Eskel’s intense gaze boldly but feeling the blush that is creeping up his neck and threatens to spread across his cheeks.

Eskel’s eyes flick away sideways with a stern look, and Geralt tenses, then clears his throat, a little insecure.

“Yes, what Eskel said. You can, um, shape that place to your liking, and we’re happy to have you here,” Geralt says and Jaskier watches Eskel’s eyes turning all soft with adoration. “Sorry, I’m not good with words,” Geralt adds hesitantly.

“You are when it counts. Beautifully said, my love,” Eskel says, then leans over to peck Geralt on the lips and stroke his thumb over Jaskier’s cheek at the same time. When he pulls back, he takes his hand with him and Jaskier is sure his face must be a pretty shade of pink right now.

It’s a lovely colour, it suits him. He can wear it proudly today.

“Enough of that now,” Geralt says in an amused tone. “Let’s go look at Henrietta so we don’t miss the pizza.”

Eskel laughs. “Oh Geralt, you know how long that’s going to take.”

“Fuck, but I’m hungry,” Geralt says grumpily and tugs Jaskier towards the door. “Your bag still in the car?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier says and lets himself be led until he remembers he doesn’t have a treat for Henrietta. “Oh but let me quickly get an apple, my darling Henrietta would be deeply wounded if I visited her without a gift.”

“You are spoiling every single animal on this farm,” Geralt snorts and lets him go.

“I wouldn’t go into the kitchen before dinner is ready, if I were you,” Eskel calls after him.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Jaskier says, looking casually back over his shoulder as he walks, welcoming how his current blush and rain-mussed hair must add a dishevelled effect to his appearance right now. “I’ve walked in on them often enough. You two though, I only had the pleasure of catching once.” He stops on the threshold, head cocked to the side, reminiscing. Then he refocuses his gaze on Geralt and Eskel, who are both gaping at him. He lowers his voice, looks from one to the other, and winks. “But _oh_ what a pleasure that was,” he muses, and saunters off into the kitchen.

Flirting with them like _this_ , he finds, is even more fun than he’d thought it would be, and he honestly doesn’t know why it took him so damn long to finally try. The flustered look on Geralt’s face, and Eskel’s amused smile, are encouragement enough to try again very soon.

When he enters the kitchen, he is not shocked at all to find Lambert perched on top of the kitchen island, with Aiden standing between his legs, both seemingly lost to the world in a messy kiss. The pizza ingredients are scattered all around them, and Lambert’s clothes have floury handprints all over them.

Unfazed, Jaskier walks around them, whistling to himself while he reaches for the bowl of apples on the counter and grabs two.

“Don’t mind me,” he says, even though they have never, not once, seemed to pay him any mind when he caught them making out. “Geralt’s going to be pissed, but Lambert deserves a good time for being an excellent friend today.” He turns on his heel and walks back out, juggling the two apples while shoving the door open with his shoulder.

Before it falls shut behind him, he hears Aiden’s voice purring low and deep. “Do you now, my sweet Lamb?” Lambert’s answering moan makes him grin smugly as he walks towards Geralt and Eskel waiting at the front door.

“Must you encourage them? They are going to be at it even longer now,” Geralt groans in frustration, but Jaskier thinks he’s secretly thankful to have something to cover up his own irritation about what happened before. He’s so easily flustered in his stoic way, while Eskel seems to have recovered just fine and grins like a cat that got the cream.

“Not necessarily, might have sped things along, actually. But either way, I got you a snack. Here, catch!” Jaskier lets the two apples spin one last round before tossing one to Geralt, who fumbles to catch it before it hits the floor.

Eskel lets out one of his hearty laughs that always makes Jaskier’s heart jump with joy.

“Who exactly is he spoiling now?” Eskel says and takes Geralt by the hand to tug him along as he noisily bites into the apple.

“‘S a good apple,” he says defensively with his mouth full.

“Yes, and you’ll be a good boy now and won’t grouch until dinner’s ready, will you?” Eskel teases him fondly.

“Shut up,” Geralt grumbles through another mouthful of apple

Jaskier smiles to himself as he steps out into the rain to get his bag out of the car. Shaping his place here to his liking is going to be his greatest challenge yet, but what a fun one it’s going to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/)
> 
> All your comments and kudos are amazing, they keep me motivated to write more in this verse!


	11. Vanilla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s settling in smoothly, he thinks. Sometimes he catches himself thinking of having to go back to the pub and then the realisation trickles in, feeling like warm summer rain prickling on his skin.

He’s settling in smoothly, he thinks. Sometimes he catches himself thinking of having to go back to the pub and then the realisation trickles in, feeling like warm summer rain prickling on his skin.

At some point he remembers that he hasn’t brought his bike back, everything else is now at the farm, even though mostly still in boxes. There’s always a free vehicle for him to take when he has to go to the clinic or gets an emergency call, so he doesn’t really need it. He could even take a horse since there’s a pasture ground attached to the clinic, become the riding vet of Morhen. There’s a path through the woods leading into town, not as steep as the road, Eskel showed him.

The evenings are as relaxing and lovely as ever, only now he gets to stay at the end of every day. There are no schemes to make him stay anymore and he doesn’t have to debate with himself whether he should give them all a break from his presence, give them some privacy. Today is Saturday though, so they’ll all head out down to the pub soon.

He finds Ciri alone in the kitchen, looking out of the window, lost in thought and twirling her phone around in her hands. She was thrilled when Jaskier told her he’s moved in and was happy to come over for the weekend.

“Hey, sweetie,” Jaskier says and leans his guitar case against the table. “You ok?” She’s been a bit absentminded since she arrived and he’d hoped to catch her alone in case she needs someone to talk to.

“Hey,” she says back quietly, but keeps staring out of the window.

“Ciri, are you ok?” Jaskier asks again and sits down beside her.

“What?” Ciri’s head snaps towards him as if she only now really registered his presence. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Fine.”

It only now dawns on him that him moving into her childhood home could be the reason. Sure, she seemed thrilled and happy, but actually seeing him living here with her family might be odd for her.

“Is it because I’m living here now?” he asks carefully.

“Oh Jaskier, no! How can you think that? Gods no, we all love you, you must know that.” She sounds genuinely shocked and pats his forearm, smiling at him.

They all love him? Does he know that? He isn’t sure, but her approval settles like a warm blanket over him. He didn’t know he needed to hear it said out loud, blatantly like that, for his last remaining doubts to dissolve into nothing.

“Thanks for telling me. I seem to be quite slow on the uptake in that regard. But if it’s not that, then there must be something else that makes you all broody. Makes you look like your dad, you know that?”

“Oh no, really?” Ciri says, but then laughs and covers her face with her hands. “It’s nothing important. It’s just this girl I keep thinking about.”

“You are not allowed to call matters of the heart not important in my presence.” He settles on the chair more comfortably and drums his fingers enthusiastically onto the table. “Go on, tell me about her. I will not let you go until I know everything about her.”

She blushes and smiles shyly, looking down at her hands. “There’s not much I know about her, actually. Her name is Camila, and she often sits in the row in front of me in one of my lectures. Her long black hair smells like vanilla and sometimes spills over the back of her seat and onto my table. That’s all I know.”

“That’s plenty to work with, dear. Have you spoken to her?” Oh, this is going to be exciting.

“Jaskier, that’s exactly the problem! I don’t think she’s noticed me, or she’s just as shy as I am. I’d just like to get to know her, ask her out, but I’ve never done it like that before, not with someone who is basically a stranger.”

“Well, I don’t know what relationship advice your fathers gave you,” Jaskier starts, testing the waters, and Ciri interrupts him with a loud laugh.

“They?” She smiles fondly. “What do they know about asking someone out, they never had to. They’ve always had each other. I’m not even sure they can pinpoint the day they got together, they never celebrate any anniversary apart from the day I came to live with them. Gramps said from the day he bought papa home with him, he’s slept in dad’s bed and they have been inseparable since. I’ll ask them when I want to know how to keep it all going for decades, but right now, I just want to get to know her.”

“Easily done, my dear.” He gets his notebook out, tears out a page and starts scribbling down some verses. “You are very lucky that Camila rhymes with vanilla.”

“Kind of rhymes, not perfectly though,” she frowns.

“Broody _and_ fussy about rhymes, just like Geralt. And you’ve got Eskel’s bright smile. If Camila doesn’t appreciate both, she’s not worth your time anyway. Look, these are for when you actually take her out someday. Poetry like this, it doesn't have to be perfect, its purpose is to make her smile. It’s going to be even more fun when you tell her a friend wrote it for you because you couldn't stop talking about her.”

He slides over the piece of paper with one limerick and a silly haiku and she chuckles as she reads them.

“For the first step, though, let me think of a strategy. We’ll get you that date, but right now, I think the others are actually waiting for us to get going, alright?”

“Oh, I didn’t realise it’s already so late.”

“Daydreaming is important, I’m sorry that I called it brooding,” Jaskier says and gets up.

“Maybe dad is daydreaming too, and just happens to look grumpy while doing it,” Ciri giggles as they leave the kitchen.

“Well, it certainly is a good strategy when you want to enjoy your daydream and don’t want anyone to interrupt it. If you master looking even scarier than him, you could dream in class and no professor would dare to tell you off.”

“Says the former professor,” Ciri laughs.

“Believe me, it would work with most of them. On the other hand of course, a professor telling you to pay attention is a brilliant way to say something along the lines of: _‘Oh I’m so sorry, I was just dreaming about snogging Camila in the library.’_ But that might be a tad too extroverted and most certainly will get you thrown out of class. Worked for me twice, though.” Jaskier winks at her as he holds open the front door for her.

“Jaskier, you are unbelievable. I’d never do that!” Ciri shrieks and pushes at his shoulder with surprising strength.

“Do what?” Geralt growls protectively as they meet the others in the yard.

“Go on stage with nothing on but my guitar in front of me to get into someone’s pants,“ says Jaskier to save Ciri from having to explain anything.

There’s howling laughter from everyone as they squeeze into the van and Jaskier delights in having made Geralt blush.

Of course it’s Lambert who asks. “Did it work?”

“Nope. He ran out of the pub screaming and was never seen again. I got thrown out and was banned from ever playing there again. So really nothing I’d advise anyone to try.” He shrugs and grins at the memory. “It was fun, though.”

“Unbelievable indeed,” Geralt says drily as he slides into the seat next to Jaskier, and even in the dim light in the van, Jaskier can see the way the corners of his mouth are upturned.

“Would’ve worked on me,” Geralt whispers a moment later, his mouth too close to Jaskier’s ear for anyone else to hear, as Aiden starts the engine and some of the others have started chatting away.

“Good to know,” Jaskier says, both shocked and thrilled, feeling like everyone must be able to hear how loud his heart is hammering in his chest.

* * *

Jaskier saves his newest song for last and The Wolves of Morhen Valley is an instant hit. After the second encore, he’s high on stage-adrenalin but knows it’s time to wrap it up for tonight.

He flops down into Eskel’s lap, even though there’s a free spot because Vesemir stayed home tonight, and reaches for Geralt’s pint. It’s not a conscious thing anymore, it’s just the way it always goes and he wouldn’t change it for the world. Geralt doesn’t even grunt anymore. If the glass happens to be out of Jaskier’s reach, he even shoves it towards him, and he has never, not once, found it empty.

“Amazing new song,” Eskel tells him and hugs him from behind. Jaskier leans happily into the contact as the others tell him how much they loved it as well, and Jaskier’s chest fills with love at their praise.

“Couldn’t stop watching you,” Eskel says quietly into his ear, and puts both his hands on Jaskier’s waist, “but I really need to take a piss now.” He lifts Jaskier up, easily as ever, but instead of just placing him on the bench, he deposits him effortlessly on Geralt’s lap, who doesn’t even interrupt his conversation with Lambert and just snakes his arm around Jaskier to pull him further in.

After an initial moment of shock, he makes himself comfortable where Eskel has put him. He trusts him that he knows what he’s doing and even though Geralt has been more generous with physical contact since Jaskier moved in, this is a whole new level of intimacy. And isn’t it more than a little bit intimidating to grow closer and closer with both of them? He’s both thrilled and nervous, he can admit that to himself, that this might lead exactly where he wishes it to lead, has even wished for a long while now if he’s brutally honest with himself. He’ll just have to wait and see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All your feedback is amazing, thank you!!  
> For everyone who is interested, I'm already 4k into the Lambert x Aiden backstory fic. It's going to take me months to finish, but I am on it!
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/)


	12. Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is excellent progress, Geralt thinks happily as Jaskier settles comfortably on his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case someone needs a warning: sexy times ahead!

This is excellent progress, Geralt thinks happily as Jaskier settles comfortably on his lap. The sort of natural progress Geralt had hoped they would make, once Jaskier has lived with them for a while. He watches Jaskier drain the pint Geralt ordered for himself shortly before the end of Jaskier’s performance for exactly this purpose. Somehow stealing Geralt’s drink always makes him happier than finding they ordered one for him.

Since Jaskier came back and moved in, Geralt finds it increasingly more difficult to keep his hands to himself or keep from saying stupid things like he earlier did in the car. He’d told Eskel that he’d like to initiate more physical contact with Jaskier, but doesn’t find the right moments, so apparently, this here is Eskel helping him along by simply dropping Jaskier onto his lap. But with all the recent flirting and touching, this would have happened sooner or later without Eskel’s help anyway, right?

Excellent. It’s exactly what he wants and now that he has it, he doesn’t know what to do.

It’s all well and good, it feels nice, only the way Jaskier’s leg keeps tapping a fast, maybe nervous rhythm onto the floor, sends distracting vibrations up his thigh. He’ll think about a way Eskel can make it up to him tonight, the bastard must have known about this habit going by the frequency he lets Jaskier sit in his lap. Eskel is more resilient than him, not so easily riled up and fuck Geralt can’t believe he’s turned on just from this.

For now, it’s a light enough buzz of pleasure he can keep under control as long as he has something else to focus on. So for a while, he keeps on talking to Lambert about his latest home-brew and how he honestly thinks it’s his best so far. It feels natural to slide an arm around Jaskier to pull him into a more comfortable position because he wants this to be a nice experience for them both.

A few minutes later he isn’t sure he’d describe it as _nice_ anymore. Jaskier’s scent fills his nose in a way it never has before, because he’s so close and keeps leaning back against Geralt’s chest when he laughs, which right now makes Geralt’s nose poke into his hair.

It’s distracting, is what it is, and intimate, and arousing.

When Eskel gets back, he sits down so close to Geralt, with his arm snaking around the back of the bench, that they are pressed together from shoulder to knee, with Jaskier wriggling somewhere in between.

He can’t hold a conversation like this, not with both of them so close, both of them so warm, and Jaskier’s leg is still tapping away under the table. His trousers are too fucking tight for this.

Lambert, the prick, with his knowing looks and shit-eating grin knows exactly what’s going on and tries to wrap him up in a most obscure conversation about different kinds of chili vodka.

Everyone but Eskel, as their designated driver, is pleasantly drunk now, and while Aiden tells stories about the famous rum from back home and how much he misses the good stuff that you can’t even buy online, Jaskier giggles along and keeps leaning back into Geralt.

Distracting. Intimate. Arousing.

He gives up on the table’s conversation entirely and that’s when his head starts to spin, the points of contact with Jaskier and Eskel too prominent and pleasant to ignore to focus on anything else.

He drifts like that for a while, leaning back and slouching so his head rests on Eskel’s arm behind him, watching Jaskier’s back flex while he’s waving his arms about as he talks animatedly.

Suddenly the atmosphere shifts and Jaskier tenses. On alert, Geralt sits up straight again and his chest collides with Jaskier’s back, which seems to be happy about the support because it presses back into him.

Ciri has just dropped a package onto the table and announces that she’s got a present for Jaskier and everyone is grinning and staring. Jaskier’s leg taps even faster and Geralt can feel the excitement oozing off of him in waves. He wishes he had a chili vodka to clear his mind.

“It’s something I wanted to give you for your birthday anyway, but now seemed such a better occasion,” Ciri smiles in that warm and kind way of hers as she slides over the bundle in rainbow wrapping paper.

Jaskier reaches for it, his hand hovering inches above for a few seconds before he grabs it and tears it open. Inside is a pile of bright yellow shirts with a familiar logo on the front.

Over the years, Ciri has made it her mission to always provide every family member with their ‘uniform’. As the creator of their logo which they’ve put on all their products since she thought it would also be fun to let them all wear matching shirts. A plan she implemented one memorable Christmas where she got them one each in a designated colour. Geralt was pleased about his being black and still thinks Eskel looks especially dashing in his bright red.

“Ciri, I—,” Jaskier says. His tapping has stopped and his voice is smaller than Geralt has ever heard it. “I don’t know what to say.” He’s trembling, ever so slightly, Geralt can feel it.

“For once, don’t say anything and try it on!” Ciri encourages him and Jaskier obliges enthusiastically.

Geralt was not prepared and can only stare at the expanse of strong shoulders being exposed right in front of him. He tries to breathe but fails and finds he should look away. Naturally, his eyes dart over to Eskel who is not trying to hide that he likes what he sees. Helplessly, Geralt turns back just to see creamy skin being covered by yellow cotton. To his utter shock, the fabric is tight enough to hug those shoulders just right.

Jaskier shifts and wiggles and thanks Ciri for what feels like an age and Ciri seems to be very pleased with herself. “Got you a few wider ones too, but thought you might appreciate this cut, too.”

“Oh absolutely, deary, it’s fantastic! Isn’t it, Geralt?” Jaskier says, turning to look at him with a cheeky smile while he smoothes the fabric down his wide chest.

Geralt is presented with the v-neck front of the shirt that, just like most of his clothes, leaves no room to wonder just how much hair there is on Jaskier’s chest. Geralt sighs, resigned, because he can come up with a good line once in a while, in his own time, but not pressed like this.

“Fantastic,” he repeats lamely. “Like that colour on you. Good choice, Ciri,” Geralt adds and is amazed that Jaskier still beams brightly at him even though he might have expected something a little more flirty.

Fuck, Geralt can’t decide if he’s too drunk or not drunk enough for this. Or rather, he’s too out of practice and entirely too inexperienced with this kind of relationship building. His thoughts come to a halt when Eskel’s hand starts to brush through his hair.

It’s something that has always calmed him down and he sighs again, happily this time. As he starts to relax, his hand that is still loosely curled around Jaskier’s waist starts to play with the hem of his new shirt. Absent-mindedly at first, but then he’s aware of touching warm skin and when he looks up, he finds Jaskier smiling approvingly at him over his shoulder. He smiles back and rubs the cotton between his fingertips, making his knuckles brush against Jaskier’s skin again and again.

When Jaskier turns around again, Geralt automatically looks over at Eskel and the love he finds in his gaze is still paralysing sometimes. Geralt knows it’s there, knows it every second of every day, returns it with the same passion and intensity, but in situations like this, the reality of it can be overwhelming.

He leans over, and something tells him that the way he licks into Eskel’s mouth is a little too dirty. But he knows Lambert and Aiden don’t give a fuck, Ciri is probably rolling her eyes fondly and looking somewhere else and Jaskier? He wants him to see and wonder, wants to make him that little bit more curious, and maybe judging by the way he now squirms on Geralt’s lap, he has succeeded.

Eskel laughs into the kiss, and sober as he is, stops it before it gets any filthier. He doesn’t pull away though, just moves his mouth to Geralt’s ear.

“I’ll take care of you once we get back, just hold on a little longer, yes?” he whispers.

Geralt grunts weakly and nods. Of course, Eskel has noticed the state he’s in, he always does.

“Very good,” Eskel praises and fuck if that doesn’t make it even worse. “I’ll make it worth the wait.”

“You always make it worth everything, and you know it,” Geralt mumbles and lets his head fall back on Eskel’s arm again.

Eskel just chuckles and as Molly brings another round, his hand joins Geralt’s at the hem of Jaskier’s shirt.

* * *

It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes Jaskier has that one drink too much and the problem is, that it’s not obvious before he stands up. He gets more fidgety, his voice gets an even louder edge and his stories get downright filthy, but he doesn’t slur. He’s as fluent and eloquent as always but when he stands up, he can’t even take two steps without tripping over his own feet.

Same today, but Geralt is just too preoccupied ignoring the pressure in his trousers to piece together the signs. Only when Eskel warns him not to let Jaskier get up unsupported, does Geralt’s mind catch up. Having switched to apple soda for the last two rounds, Geralt feels steady enough himself to help Jaskier up and walk with him towards the door. When they walk past the staircase to the upper rooms, Jaskier gravitates in that direction out of habit. Gently, Geralt guides him away and through the door.

“No, you’re coming home with us,” Geralt tells him.

“Oh, right! Take me home, hero of my dreams,” Jaskier says cheerily, flailing his hands about before slumping all his weight onto Geralt.

Geralt smiles to himself and holds him more securely.

With Eskel’s help, they get Jaskier and his uncooperative limbs into the van and as Geralt sits down beside him, his head comes to rest on his shoulder with a loud snore.

Eskel smiles and leans in to kiss Geralt’s temple before he closes the door from the outside and climbs into the driver’s seat. He drives them slowly and securely up the dark road and Geralt closes his eyes, welcoming the absence of the pub background noise. The only voices he can hear are the familiar tipsy giggles from Ciri, Lambert and Aiden, as well as Jaskier snuffling on his shoulder. If it weren’t for the simmering arousal pooling in his groin that has been torturing him since Jaskier sat down on his lap, he’d have dropped off to sleep too.

Once at home, Lambert and Aiden say their goodbyes as they sway down the path towards their cottage hand in hand, and Eskel comes to help him manoeuvre the sleep-heavy body of Jaskier out of the car. Eskel takes over then, he’s always been the one to take Jaskier to bed when he was too drunk to make it up the stairs in the pub. Slinging one of his limp arms over his shoulder, Eskel drags him to the house where Ciri holds open the door for them.

She then squeezes past them, presses a kiss to Geralt’s cheek on her way to jump into Eskel’s path onto the stairs before he can take the first step upwards, swirls around on her tiptoes to give him a goodnight kiss as well before darting upstairs and into her room.

“Night, cub,” they both say and watch her vanish at the top of the stairs.

“It was easier tucking him in right there at the pub,” Eskel huffs as he gives up dragging Jaskier along and simply picks him up to carry him upstairs. Jaskier isn’t a small man, but like this, he fits perfectly into Eskel’s arms with his head tucked under his chin. “But I never had a good feeling leaving him alone in this state.” Eskel lays him down on the bed and kneels down to remove his boots. “Now he’s closer, at least.”

Geralt knows what Eskel means is he’d rather take him to their bed, but of course they can’t do that now, not without Jaskier’s sober consent. He watches from the threshold as Eskel curses because the lacing of those stylish ankle-high boots won’t loosen enough to get them off easily.

Geralt chuckles and goes to get a glass of water, and when he comes back to place it on the nightstand, Eskel smoothes the covers over Jaskier’s sleeping form and places a kiss into his hair. Snaking his arms around Eskel from behind, Geralt steps closer, presses his whole body against him and nuzzles into the back of his neck. His hips press into Eskel’s backside and a soft little whimper escapes Geralt.

“I know, love. I promised,” Eskel says softly and places his hands on Geralt’s where they hug his chest. “C’mon.”

Geralt loosens his grip as Eskel starts to turn in his arms and is rewarded with a deep kiss that steals the last remaining shreds of his self-control. He moans helplessly into Eskel’s mouth as he is walked backwards out of the room when he hears a noise coming from the bed. He breaks the kiss to have a look and spots bleary eyes watching them.

“Night my darlings, have fun,” Jaskier mumbles as his eyes drift close again.

“Dream of us,” Eskel says, deep and soft, and Jaskier answers with a sleepy sigh. When Eskel closes the door, he’s already snoring.

“Fuck,” Geralt whispers, cups Eskel’s face to kiss him desperately. “Dream of us,” he repeats between kisses, “are you trying to kill me? Been half-hard all evening.”

“Hm, and you’ve been so good. Was it nice, having him so close?” Eskel asks in that deep, steady and fucking alluring voice that drives Geralt mad.

“Fucking distracting.” Geralt steals another kiss before Eskel pushes him further back towards their bedroom. “Arousing. Intimate. Probably inappropriate.”

“Nothing inappropriate, I assure you. He was aware of how it affected you, I could tell. He was, too.”

“Makes it worse. Fucking tease, the both of you,” Geralt sighs and lets himself be pushed onto their bed, looking up at Eskel standing between his parted legs.

Eskel starts to strip quickly and smirks down at him. “No more teasing. What do you want?”

“Ride you.” Geralt decides without thinking, eyes transfixed on the wide expanse of Eskel’s uncovered chest right in front of him. So familiar, yet so fascinating to look at each time it is revealed to him, or he is the one revealing it.

“Then what are you waiting for? Clothes off, so I can get you ready.”

Geralt blinks and Eskel is already naked. The alcohol must still affect him because the passing of time feels off. When he struggles to comply, Eskel laughs, pushes him back and straddles him on the bed to help.

The relief when Eskel peels him out of the confines of his trousers is almost too much. Geralt groans when he takes him in hand for a few firm strokes but quickly lets go again to slide his lubed fingers against his hole. Geralt lets his legs fall open and tilts his hips invitingly.

True to his word, Eskel is not teasing. He prepares Geralt with practised ease, quickly but carefully, while Geralt moans with every push of his fingers inside him. With Eskel, there is always praise. He tells him how good he is doing, how beautiful he is, and how much he wants him and it never fails to make Geralt relax into it. Eskel’s free hand rubs soothing circles over his thigh and up his side, sometimes he leans forward for a few kisses. Only when Eskel decides that Geralt is loose enough, does he remove his fingers.

He lies down beside him and pats Geralt’s side with the back of his hand, oiling up his own cock with the other.

“Up you get, pretty one,” he says and Geralt doesn’t lose a second before he rolls himself over to settle above Eskel on his hands and knees.

He leans in for a kiss first and Eskel pulls him close with a hand in his hair and one on the back of his thigh. While they kiss, Geralt slowly sinks down onto Eskel’s cock and moans into his mouth until he is seated as deeply as this position allows. Geralt takes a moment to adjust, breathes heavily into Eskel’s neck, before he sits up to take him the rest of the way.

This act and this position, so familiar, and therefore grounding, is exactly what Geralt needs today; he needs to feel Eskel inside him, needs that little bit of control over the pace, needs to be still and connected with Eskel just like this for a few long moments. All the tension of the evening falls away, because this is territory he knows and has loved for decades.

He spreads his hands over Eskel’s thick chest, runs his fingers through the light dusting of dark curls there, enjoys stroking over that soft padding that hides the strong muscle beneath. Eskel looks up at him, eyes always so bright and fond.

He has recently recognised a similar fondness in Jaskier’s eyes and he honestly doesn’t know what he did to deserve to have both these extraordinary men look at him like this.

When Geralt finally starts to move, Eskel’s hands glide up and down his thighs and his eyes fall closed in bliss as he moans intensely. Eskel meets his thrusts carefully and they settle into an unhasty rhythm until, much later, they are both breathless and panting.

A few moments before Geralt would have started to beg for release, Eskel’s hand closes around his cock and he growls. “Yes, please,” he breathes, too close to say more, but Eskel knows and strokes his cock as they continue to rock together steady and slow.

Geralt leans backwards against Eskel’s raised knees, arches his back and pushes down to meet Eskel’s thrusts a bit harder than before until the pleasure that has been building up all evening finally peaks and he comes with a deep moan that rumbles through his chest with force as it breaks free.

He slumps forward, unable to hold himself up anymore and Eskel rolls them over smoothly, keeps rocking into him for a few more well-aimed thrusts until he spills deep inside him just moments later with a thundering groan and teeth digging ever so carefully into his shoulder.

“Mark me,” Geralt says, holding Eskel’s head right there. “I know you want to.”

Eskel grunts in desperation and licks tentatively over the spot, still shaking with his aftershocks. Then Geralt clenches around his softening cock, arches up into him and presses his head into his neck. The move has the desired effect and Eskel sucks on that patch of skin instinctively, making Geralt hum in satisfaction.

“Fuck Geralt, this’ll look lovely tomorrow, but you also know how much I hate hurting you.”

“Doesn’t hurt, never does. Just thought it would be fun when he sees it tomorrow,” Geralt says, feeling happily sleepy.

Eskel kisses the spot gently, always so careful and considerate that Geralt just has to challenge him every now and then.

“Payback for tonight, then? Want to be a tease in return?” Eskel chuckles and kisses Geralt's nose before slipping out. He reaches for the tissue box on the bedside table and cleans them up enough so they won’t be too sticky in the morning, then pulls up the blanket and snuggles into Geralt’s side with one arm draped over his chest.

“Want him to get curious, is all,” Geralt mumbles sleepily.

“Oh he’s plenty curious already, believe me,” Eskel says, tangling his legs with Geralt’s.

“And yet.”

“And yet, we’re all idiots, but we’ll get there. Sleep now, love,” Eskel says as he presses a kiss on the centre of Geralt’s chest. Geralt doesn’t need to be told twice and drifts off moments later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is welcome to guess who is wearing which shirt colour. No, I haven't specified any other colour but black for Geralt, red for Eskel and yellow for Jaskier, but I'd love to hear what you all think! 
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/)


	13. Simmering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sundays at the Rainbow Farm usually start a little bit slower than any other day, Jaskier has been told — even before Saturday night had been declared family-pub-day because of Jaskier’s weekly performance.

Sundays at the Rainbow Farm usually start a little bit slower than any other day, Jaskier has been told — even before Saturday night had been declared family-pub-day because of Jaskier’s weekly performance.

Daily farm chores still have to be done, of course, but everyone tries to take it a little easier, sleep a little longer. Jaskier’s Sunday begins in the early hours when he blinks his eyes open to a glass of water that he drowns with a groan, then falls back into his pillows to sleep away the pounding headache.

The second time he wakes is much nicer. He stretches under the covers and listens to the familiar sounds around the house. He hears faint laughter from downstairs, the clattering of dishes, the shower running in the bathroom. Figuring he has to wait until the shower’s free anyway, he closes his eyes and thinks back to last night. His performance had been lovely as always, and he’s been drawing crowds from a few towns over for a while now, which is exciting and also good for the farm business since the Thistle is one of the places in Morhen that sells their products.

So when new people hear him sing one of their songs, they get curious and usually buy something, and then they come back because they want to buy more, and because the music and the pub food are also excellent, they keep coming back. Ciri added t-shirts with the line “Toss a Coin to Your Farmer” on the front a few months back and they’re selling incredibly well.

Which takes him back to what she gave him yesterday. He runs his hand down his chest to feel the rainbow print on the front and smiles. His own Rainbow Farm shirts, in his favourite colour, to match the others.

And then it comes back to him where he had been sitting all night. Sudden arousal blooms in him remembering how, when he shifted back a little in Geralt’s lap, he’d nudge the bulge in his trousers with his bottom. He could feel the slight tremors going through Geralt’s body, or his hot breath against his neck, sometimes there’d be a tiny noise as well. Jaskier thinks about Geralt holding him close, about a pair of hands playing with the hem of his shirt, brushing his skin, and a filthy snog happening right behind him while he was trying his best not to shove a hand down his own trousers.

The shower stopped a while ago so he jumps out of bed because this is only going to end quickly and messy, and a shower wank means no clean up after all. He grabs a pair of jeans, fresh briefs and one of his new shirts and darts out of the door only to collide with Geralt and Eskel in the hallway.

“Mmpf,” he says into Geralt’s chest.

“Morning,” Geralt chuckles and steadies him with an arm around his waist.

Geralt smells fresh and his skin is still so warm from the hot shower that Jaskier can feel his heated skin through the two layers of cotton separating them.

“Someone’s keen to get to the shower, hm?” Eskel says fondly and runs a hand through Jaskier’s dishevelled hair. When Jaskier extracts himself slowly, his gaze focuses on a remarkable love bite that’s visible just above the collar of Geralt’s black shirt.

Jaskier opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it again abruptly when a moment from last night comes back to him; Geralt and Eskel, arm in arm, kissing, walking slowly out of his room.

_Dream of us._

Jaskier smirks. “Oh my darlings, you _did_ have fun last night,” he says, not looking away from Geralt’s neck, captivated by the sight. The urge to lick that spot and suck a mark right beside the other is unbearably strong.

“Hmhm, and did you have a nice dream?” Eskel says, raking his eyes down Jaskier’s body where his morning excitement is very obvious in his tight briefs. His voice is low and steady, making Jaskier shiver. Geralt seems equally affected as he makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat and looks at Jaskier with hooded eyes.

For a split second Jaskier thinks about covering himself with the pile of clothes he carries in one hand, but then it’s already too late and he is enjoying the direction where this is going far too much. One of them is going to snap soon, this level of sexual tension is impossible to keep up for long, but it’s not going to be him right now. He can give as much as he gets.

“Much to my displeasure I do not recall any dreams, but I will make the most of my memories from last night while I enjoy all the hot water that you left for me,” he says with a wink as he brushes past them with a swing in his step.

“You better be quick enjoying yourself, then,” Eskel says, still in that voice that drives Jaskier crazy.

“Eh, won’t be a problem,” he says airily, but as he closes the door behind him, he drops the nonchalant act and groans desperately as he pulls off his clothes in an impatient hurry.

The room is still damp and warm, the shower smells of their soap. He turns the water on, stands under the spray and leans his forehead on his arm braced on the cool tiles. Be quick, Eskel had said, and as Jaskier takes his cock in hand, he knows he couldn’t make this last even if he tried — that it was meant partly as a warning is forgotten after he gives himself a few firm strokes.

With his eyes closed and the hot water pattering on his back, he imagines Eskel sucking that beautiful bruise onto Geralt’s neck. Maybe Eskel pressed Geralt against a wall, pulling down his collar just a bit to mark him there. Maybe Geralt was panting beneath him and Eskel carefully tilted his head to get better access to that spot. Maybe Geralt asked him to mark him. There are endless possibilities but he only manages to list a few more before he feels his orgasm approaching.

Muffling his moans into his arm, he works himself faster, swipes his thumb over the head on every upstroke and then comes over his hand and onto the shower tiles. Fuck, that was quick indeed. Jaskier can’t remember the last time he thought about anyone else while touching himself and realises not for the first time that he doesn’t want to think about anyone else.

He pushes himself away from the wall, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he reaches for the soap. Jaskier prefers their extra sensitive one, with lavender-rosemary scent, one that Lambert is — rightfully so — particularly proud of. He’d also told Jaskier that he’d make him a ring-shaped one on request, if he’d prefer that. Jaskier hadn’t quite understood what the use of a ring-shaped soap would be, but right now, while he makes sure to wash all his come off the tiles, he comes to the sudden realisation why that would be a very useful thing to have, in the shower — and in particular in his current state of being perpetually horny.

After scrubbing himself clean, he lathers up his hair, letting his thoughts wander while massaging his scalp. He enjoys all this flirty teasing, it’s exciting, but the prospect of it leading to something is still terrifying, and isn’t that a thrilling combination? This is good progress, he can deal with this pace, because he just fucking moved in here after having a dramatic breakdown because of it, so he’s not going to ruin it after only a few days. It still feels so selfish to want more, to be part of what Geralt and Eskel are, because isn’t he already, in some way? And shouldn’t that be enough?

Lambert talked about family, Ciri about love, and Geralt? He said Jaskier should shape his place. So this is him, shaping, by wanking to the thought of them? Ah, to hells with all that thinking, he has got dinner to prepare today.

Just when he’s about to rinse off the shampoo, the water turns lukewarm and then suddenly very, very cold. He yelps and curses loudly as he tries to rid himself of the remaining bubbles in his hair before he’s going to freeze to death in here.

He jumps out of the shower shivering, but now at least awake. Towelling off his hair, he remembers Eskel’s warning and laughs. Well, he just has to be even quicker next time — or jump into the shower with them.

* * *

After breakfast Jaskier takes on this morning’s stable duties. He’s always enjoyed this kind of work, and as a kid, the stables on his parents’ estate were the only place he ever felt truly safe. Jaskier had spent hours there, the horses his only audience when he practised on his guitar, lying in the straw. He’d sworn to himself back then, that he’d either do something with horses when he grew up or become a musician, and after his parents threatened to disown him should he follow one of these paths, he thought it would just be safer to simply do both.

And here he is now, working in the stables of a family he found because he followed the path of his heart. Whistling happily, he finishes his work and goes to have a look first at all the other mares in foal, and then at Henrietta.

She shows signs of impending foaling now, and they are all on alert already. It’s a little earlier than Jaskier initially predicted, which worries him some, since Geralt told him she’s always been right on time and has never been early before.

Jaskier pats her carefully as he checks her over and is sure it’s not going to take much longer than maybe two days. He talks to her soothingly as he tops up her bedding of straw and feeds her some treats, but since he doesn’t want to disturb her further, leaves her alone after that.

Roach snorts at him from the adjoined stall and of course she gets some pats and treats too. He talks softly to her, telling her that Geralt will take her out for a ride soon but that Henrietta has to stay inside today. She nickers and nudges Jaskier’s shoulder with her nose when he tells her that he’s on kitchen duty.

“Yes, yes, Roachie, I know. I have a job to do and I won’t procrastinate any longer.”

Running his fingers through her mane a few more times, he tells her goodbye.

Making his way back to the farm house, Jaskier stops by that little vegetable patch in the back to pick some fresh ingredients and seasoning for the soup he’s going to prepare. He’s planned it quite meticulously, had even made notes when Molly showed him how she makes it. While gathering some parsley root and celery, and picking fresh sage from the herb garden, he hopes Lambert will return soon having caught some nice fish to go into the soup.

It dawns on him that he probably hasn’t planned ahead quite that well because the possibility of Lambert having no luck fishing hasn’t occurred to him before. Well, there’s nothing for it now but staying positive and sticking to his original plan until it either blows up in his face or he manages to make a decent meal.

Back in the kitchen, he puts away the last remaining mess of breakfast before he starts setting up everything he needs. He crawls half into the bottom compartment of the corner cupboard to get to the largest pot which is inconveniently placed in the far back, cursing loudly to himself, when something bumps into his bottom quite rudely. He yelps — for the godsdamned second time this day — hits his head in the process, curses some more as he somehow manages to crawl out backwards again and, clutching the huge pot protectively against his chest, he turns around to face his attacker.

Lil' Bleater just looks at him and bleats happily.

“Oh sweetie, it’s you,” Jaskier gasps in relief. “You gave me quite the fright there, you know. What the fuck are you doing in the kitchen anyway, huh?” He reaches out a hand slowly and she nips at it demandingly.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, you know that? But irresistibly sweet nonetheless. Let me see what I’ve got for you, and then we’ll get you back outside, yeah?” Jaskier says to her and stands up with a groan, rubbing the back of his head and then his arse.

“You ok?” Eskel’s concerned voice comes from the doorway, where he’s probably been standing for a few quiet moments already.

“Oh I’m perfectly fine, dear heart, thanks,” Jaskier says with an easy smile, because the sight of him alone makes it worth the bruises.

“But your head, let me see,” Eskel says and the moment he steps closer, Lil' Bleater scrambles under the butcher block island and vanishes. “Ah fuck, I was actually trying to avoid that.”

Jaskier laughs, then kneels down to have a look. A pair of big, pleading, slitted yellow eyes look back at him. “Can’t be mad at her when she looks at you like that, right?”

“Right. She’s got you wrapped around her little hooves as well, then,” Eskel says, letting out a long-suffering sigh.

“It’s ok,” Jaskier says, standing up again, “just leave her with me. She’ll come out at some point and I’ll take her outside then.”

“If that’s ok with you? Sure, why not.” Eskel beams at him but then frowns again, reaching for Jaskier to carefully cup the back of his head. “Do you need ice? It sounded painful.”

“I said I’m fine, my dear,” Jaskier says softly, biting back the comment that Eskel might want to check on his bottom, too, because it feels weird without Geralt being present as well. They probably should settle this between them, however frightfully sexy Jaskier might find it right now, but it’s getting complicated. Instead, Jaskier touches Eskel’s arm gently, then turns his head slightly to press his lips to the delicate skin on his wrist. “Please don’t worry.”

“Alright.” Eskel’s eyes crinkle with his beautiful smile and his thumb rubs across Jaskier’s cheekbone as he withdraws his hand slowly. “I have to get back to the field, let me know if you need anything.”

Jaskier chuckles. “Eskel, honestly, I’m all good and I’ll manage here. Lambert’s going to help me with the fish,” Jaskier announces proudly. “Well, if he catches some, that is,” he adds as soon as he remembers the flaw in his plan.

Eskel laughs loudly at that. “That’s the last thing you need to worry about, he’s got his methods.”

“Oh well, that’s reassuring. Go ahead then and work up some hunger, for this soup is going to be magnificent.”

“No doubt about that,” Eskel says, still laughing as walks out of the kitchen.

Jaskier hums happily to himself as he fills the pot with water and heaves it onto the stove. “Well then, sweetie,” he tells Lil' Bleater, “let’s see about peeling the veggies first and maybe I’ll find something nice to share with you, hm?”

He touches the back of his head and it doesn’t hurt anymore, he doubts he’ll get a bump. When he settles on a chair at the table to start with the peeling, he winces. So maybe there is going to be a bruise after all.

* * *

When a while later, and with Lil' Bleater successfully returned to the field, Lambert enters the kitchen with a bucket full of fresh fish, Jaskier is delighted. Only until he remembers that he might know a lot about fish biology, but not about how to gut and prepare them to be eaten.

Luckily Lambert expected as much and offers to help and teach him how to do it as long as Jaskier is doing the actual cooking part. He remains mysterious about his methods of fishing, though.

Lambert gets a laughing fit when he hears about the little incident with Lil' Bleater and Jaskier laughs with him. It’s just so easy to laugh with Lambert.

“Fuck,” Lambert gasps, trying to get his laughing under control and grasps Jaskier’s shoulder. “But you’re not hurt, right? Wouldn’t be fun if you were.”

“Do I look hurt to you?” Jaskier says, wiping at his eyes and grinning widely.

“Nah, but I know from experience. She butted me in the arse more than I can count and Aiden always teases me when there’s a bruise.”

“Ah, I wish someone would tease me about my bum bruise tomorrow,” Jaskier muses dreamily and catches Lambert blush.

When they finish gutting the fish and it’s all ready to go into the soup, Lambert has to leave, having promised Aiden to help him bring some wood and tools over to the wolf enclosure. They are about to build a cabin from where the pack can be observed and Jaskier can start bringing groups of kids to teach them about wolves. All the local schools and kindergartens are interested and Jaskier is already scheduling appointments, more than happy to right the evil image the animals still sadly have.

Jaskier closes the pot’s lid with a satisfied hum, now the soup only has to simmer until it’s going to be ready for dinner.

He’s about to clean the table when Geralt storms into the kitchen, ice pad in hand and a little out of breath.

“Lambert said you need ice for your arse,” he pants, and Jaskier can’t help but giggle. He feels bad when Geralt’s concerned face shuts down with a frown.

“Oh darling, thank you, but I’m fine,” he tells him gently.

“Was he fucking with me, or—,” Geralt starts but Jaskier interrupts.

“Oh no, on the contrary. I’m pretty sure he was just making sure you knew and can tease me about it.”

“Why would I tease you about a bruise?” Geralt asks and looks utterly confused now.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jaskier says innocently, looks at the pretty bruise blooming on Geralt's neck, and again bites back some flirty remarks he’d have made under different circumstances. He absolutely trusts both Geralt and Eskel not to engage in anything they haven’t agreed on before, but he realises that this is getting too complicated for him to navigate now.

He steps close to Geralt and takes the ice pad out of his hand, cupping his cheek. “Thank you, it’s very lovely of you to check on me. Eskel was here when it happened and it’s honestly nothing. I don’t know why you are all making such a fuss. I’m just trying to cook here while you are the tough boys with scars from all your dangerous adventures,” Jaskier says fondly. Dropping his hand, he steps back.

“Because we all care for you,” Geralt says, like it’s the simplest thing. His frown lifts and the corner of his mouth twitches upward. Jaskier feels his face heating up, they always catch him off guard with these confessions. “But I believe you when you say it’s nothing. I’ll leave this here just in case.” Geralt gestures to where Jaskier put the pad on the table and then walks quickly over to the pot on the stove.

“What’s for dinner?” he asks, and Jaskier has to admit it’s an efficient subject change because he’s also suddenly lifting the lid, takes the wooden spoon and stirs before Jaskier can collect himself enough to stop him.

“Oh no no no, don’t stir!” Jaskier jumps to his side to grab the spoon out of his hand. “It has to simmer now, no stirring anymore. Molly’s orders.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know,” Geralt says, and the frown is back.

“Oh don’t sulk, silly. Come here.” Jaskier fills the spoon and holds it out to him. “Be honest and tell me if it’s bad.”

Geralt looks between him and the spoon for a few excruciating seconds before he opens his mouth and locks eyes with Jaskier. He feeds him the spoonful of soup carefully and delights as Geralt’s eyelids flutter once the spoon touches his lips. He swallows, his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip and then he smiles.

“‘S good,” Geralt says, dropping his gaze. There is a faint blush colouring his cheeks.

“Thanks, Geralt. Oh and this reminds me, it’s my first time cooking soup, so basically I just lost my soup-cooking-virginity to you,” Jaskier says cheerfully.

“You’re ridiculous,” Geralt snorts.

“Enough with the flattery now,” Jaskier laughs, “out of the kitchen with you. Dinner’s going to be ready in an hour, I’ll text the others.”

“Alright, alright. I know better than to upset the cook,” Geralt says and leaves with a smirk on his lips.

* * *

Aiden is the first to arrive for dinner and helps Jaskier set the table.

“No need to be so nervous, it smells delicious,” he tells Jaskier, arranging the spoons.

“Better save your compliments for after you tested it. I had no idea what I was doing, and I still don’t, to be honest,” Jaskier admits, setting down the bowls with a frown.

“I’m sure it tastes as good as it smells.”

“Why, thank you, but we can’t all be as excellent in the kitchen as you.”

“Just like you, I had no idea how to cook properly in a kitchen when I moved here, you know. Lived in a caravan for a long time, equipped with one portable heating plate and a microwave. I sure wasn’t preparing any miracles there.”

“Oh, wow! So you learned everything from scratch as well? How did you do it?” Jaskier is amazed. Aiden’s cooking is so extremely delicious that he thought he’d always been so good at it.

“Well, the first thing I tried here was lasagna, because it’s one of Lambert’s favourite dishes. Wanted to impress him,” Aiden laughs at the memory. “Like you, I got the recipe from a professional, I even called her while I was cooking because I was so nervous.”

“Oh, I bet he loved it!” Jaskier claps his hands excitedly, bowls forgotten.

“I burnt it.” Aiden laughs again, loud, bright and so infectious that Jaskier joins in. “But he ate it anyway, just like we eat his noodles,” Aiden adds, gasping and slowly coming down from their shared laughing fit.

“That’s love,” Jaskier muses, clutching his heart with a sigh.

“That’s love,” Aiden agrees, and hugs Jaskier against his side.

* * *

Dinner is an absolute delight. Everyone has changed into their rainbow shirts and Jaskier tears up a bit as Vesemir tells him that the colour yellow really had been missing at their table.

The soup tastes fine to him, but he knows no one would have complained if it didn’t. Still, an empty pot is a great result and Jaskier is more than motivated to try again soon. Ciri has to catch the last train back and asks him to drive her so they can go over the things she's planning on telling Camila the next time she sees her.

Jaskier indulges her, of course, even though he knows from experience that one can have a whole speech memorised and then not use a single sentence out of it when the moment finally arrives. She’ll do just fine, he knows she will.

It’s gone dark when he gets back and finds the lights in the yard shining brightly, making the light rain that has begun to fall visible as thin threads hanging from the sky. Vesemir and Eskel are standing in front of the stables and Jaskier knows this can only mean one thing: Henrietta has gone into labour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All your support is amazing! Thank everyone for reading, for leaving kudos and for telling me your thoughts! 
> 
> Somewhere on tumblr there is a post about ring-shaped soap, which I sadly can't find right now. I'll link to it here should I find it and I'll keep looking for it! My headcanon is, that Lambert makes all sorts of soap in many shapes, which will feature in his backstory. The ring-shape though, for those who don't like the mental image Jaskier thought of, can also be to just hang it up nicely on a hook in the shower... ;)
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/)


	14. New Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When did it start,” Jaskier asks, hurrying towards Eskel and Vesemir standing at the stable gate.
> 
> “Geralt went to look after her once you drove off and he thinks it’s time. He’s never wrong about that,” Vesemir tells him in that reassuring voice of his.
> 
> “Alright, then tonight it is, huh?” Jaskier says, rubbing his hands together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: animal birth

“When did it start,” Jaskier asks, hurrying towards Eskel and Vesemir standing at the stable gate.

“Geralt went to look after her once you drove off and he thinks it’s time. He’s never wrong about that,” Vesemir tells him in that reassuring voice of his.

“Alright, then tonight it is, huh?” Jaskier says, rubbing his hands together.

“Looks like it,” Eskel says. “Lambert and Aiden already went to bed to catch a few hours of sleep so we can swap teams during the night, in case it takes too long.”

“I should too,” Vesemir says, patting both of them on the shoulder on the way to his car. “Call me when you need me, but I’ll be here early in the morning anyway.”

He drives off and Jaskier can feel the rain dripping into the collar of his jacket now that Eskel pulls him further into the archway and out of the rain.

“I’ll go check on them,” Jaskier says, wiping a raindrop that has caught on Eskel’s brow away with the back of his fingers. “You get the rest of the supplies?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eskel says, suddenly quiet, staring right through Jaskier.

“You ok, dear?” Jaskier asks, concerned.

“Sorry, sorry,” Eskel shakes his head and runs a hand down his face, lingering over the scar tissue on his cheek. “It’s just, she’s special, you know?”

“I know she is, and we did everything we could and we will keep on doing that. She’s going to be fine.” Something occurs to Jaskier then. He hesitates, swallows, but then says it even though it hurts a bit. “Would you rather I call Mr. Kapalski?”

Eskel’s eyes widen in shock. “Why would I want that?”

“Because he knows her better, has more experience,” Jaskier says, looking down at his feet, feeling anxious.

“Jaskier, how many times have you done this? How many foals have you helped into this world?” When Jaskier looks up at him, there is a little smile curling at Eskel’s lips now.

“Don’t know, lost count,” he answers sheepishly, but as Eskel’s smile grows, so does his.

“Same here. Means we’ve got enough experience between the lot of us, we can do this,” Eskel says, and clasps a strong hand around the back of his neck, drawing him close with a gentle pressure to touch their foreheads together briefly. It does wonders for Jaskier’s self-confidence. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me there, but I would never question your abilities. Not as a person nor as a veterinarian. Now let’s get going, Geralt’s just as nervous as we apparently are, he needs soothing too.”

“Yes,” Jaskier whispers and watches until Eskel disappears into the house.

He really doesn’t quite understand where that burst of nervousness came from, it’s not even his first foaling here on the farm. Somehow the dark, and the rain, combined with possible complications, makes it all that little bit more intimidating than usual. Eskel’s right though, they can do this together.

Jaskier feels his confidence is back on track as he finds Geralt, carefully tying up Henrietta’s tail so it won’t get in the way later. He’s humming quietly, a tune Jaskier recognises as his own which makes his tummy do an uplifting little twist.

Geralt stops when Jaskier leans against the stall gate, and he’s not quite sure but it looks like he’s relieved to see him.

“Contractions started, think it’s going to be a while yet until the water breaks, though.” Geralt sounds calm enough but there’s a slight tremor in his voice indicating that he’s worried.

“Alright, good. You suspect something, Geralt, don't you?” Jaskier knows he does.

“Foal might lie upside down. Will you check?” Geralt asks almost shily.

“Right away,” Jaskier says gently, and opens the gate.

“You might want to change into your work clothes first,” Geralt reminds him.

“Oh, silly me,” Jaskier chuckles and walks towards the corner with some lockers where he keeps them. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he ruined his boots or clothing in the line of work.

He changes quickly and walks back into the stall where he finds Eskel already laying out the rest of the supplies. He’s brought some blankets as well, and a thermos to keep them warm.

Checking the foal’s position, Jaskier tells them that Geralt’s suspicion is correct. “But, the good thing is, if that’s the only problem, and the reason why she’s been uncomfortable these past few days, then it’s easily solved. She just needs a bit more help from us than usual.”

Geralt strokes down Henrietta’s neck as she paws restlessly at the ground. Roach whinnies and pushes her head over the divider of their stalls to brush her head against Henrietta’s, which calms her down immediately.

“We should leave them alone for a while. Roach is taking good care of her and we can wait nearby, let it all progress naturally,” Jaskier suggests.

The others agree and Eskel takes the blankets over to where they stack the hay bales and they all settle down. Geralt and Eskel arm in arm against the wall, and Jaskier positions himself cross-legged between their outstretched legs, knees resting against theirs.

“So, since you never told me about Roach and Henrietta’s love story, I figure there’s no better time than the present, right?” Jaskier says, trying to get a conversation going that’s going to distract them a little bit.

“Right,” Eskel chuckles. “Geralt, you should tell this one.”

Geralt groans and hides his face in Eskel’s shoulder. It’s incredibly endearing.

“Oh Geraaalt, come on, please,” Jaskier whines and pats him encouragingly on the thigh.

“Tell him, love. It’s an important story, isn’t it? It’ll keep us all entertained while we can do nothing but wait.” Eskel kisses his hair and with a sigh, Geralt sits up straight again.

“Only because I love you,” Geralt mumbles, with his eyes cast downwards.

Jaskier processes this as Geralt meaning Eskel, obviously, like he’s doing Eskel the favour of telling this story because Geralt loves Eskel. Only as Geralt’s eyes flick up and he looks at Jaskier for a short but sharp moment, Jaskier entertains the possibility that maybe Geralt might have meant both of them.

Jaskier blinks. He doesn’t have time to think about what that means because Geralt is already starting to talk and somehow Jaskier misses most of the beginning because he can’t quite focus.

“So I, um, rescued Roach,” Geralt says hesitantly.

“He means he basically stole her,” Eskel intervenes.

“I rescued her from people who hurt her. Then I informed the police. The more dramatic you make it, the more you encourage him to bend the truth for his songs,” Geralt says, pointing a finger at Jaskier that he promptly swats away with a mischievous grin.

“I don’t think he needs us for that,” Eskel winks at Jaskier and he can’t help but grin back smugly.

“It’s going to make an excellent song, and on request, I am going to use the word rescue, if it’s important to you,” Jaskier says, rubbing his thumb over Geralt’s thigh where his hand still lies.

“Yes please,” Geralt says seriously.

“Alright, dear heart, rescuer of horses, catcher of wolves,” says Jaskier, happily watching as Geralt’s ears turn a sweet shade of pink. He has his long hair tied up in a ponytail today, and the colour stands out beautifully against the sparkling silver of his freshly shorn undercut. Eskel must notice too because he leans in to kiss the tip of his ear, pressing his nose into the short hair there. “Please, do go on, whitest wolf of all,” Jaskier says dreamily.

Geralt’s eyes go wide at all the pet names and he lets out a shaky breath before he goes on.

“Got to keep her. Roach was traumatised when I brought her home, suspicious of other horses and very frightened of people. Had to isolate her and slowly gain her trust. She seemed to be doing ok with just my company but I wanted to at least try and see if I could find her a friend.”

As Geralt talks, Jaskier watches the two men in front of him in awe. Eskel has an arm around Geralt, his hand rests on his shoulder where he plays with the hair falling from the ponytail, a look of utter adoration on his face as Geralt talks and glances at him every now and then. Eskel’s response to these looks is always a slow, deliberate blink that soon became one of Jaskier’s favourite things to witness between them once he noticed it the first time. It’s a technique Jaskier uses on frightened cats and finds it endlessly fascinating that Geralt responds to it so well.

Jaskier keeps stroking his thumb over Geralt’s warm, leather-clad thigh, adds other fingers, changes patterns, and Geralt shoots glances at him as well, eyes a little unsure, but then Jaskier blinks at him like Eskel does, and Geralt smiles and goes on.

“At first, I put her on pastures far away from the other horses, she wouldn’t come outside when she saw others nearby. Weeks later, I started bringing some of the quiet ones closer but she kept her distance and the others lost interest. The only one that was persistently and patiently waiting on the other side of the fence was Henrietta.”

All of them look over at her stall but nothing has changed, her and Roach are still close to each other and quiet, so Geralt continues. It’s soothing, Jaskier realises, this is soothing them all.

“She was the last foal of Vesemir’s old mare, inherited her gentleness and patience. Just brought her from then on and Roach came closer every time until one day, she allowed Henrietta in the same pasture. They took off together and have been inseparable since.”

The story seems finished but Geralt looks at his hands in a way that feels like there’s more to it. Eskel is quiet too, he waits patiently to let Geralt gather his words.

Sighing, Geralt looks pleadingly at Eskel.

“Tell him,” Eskel whispers encouragingly.

Geralt takes a deep breath and looks at Jaskier. “Their story is so special to us, because it’s so similar to Eskel and mine. I was the first one Vesemir took in, after being pushed from foster home to foster home, one worse than the other. Didn’t make any friends, was too quiet in school and he was worried. I was happier here than I had ever been, thought I wouldn’t need anyone else if I could just call this my home.”

Jaskier clutches his heart. He’s overcome with emotions, with the trust they put in him by letting him be part of this most intimate of stories and especially by how they so effortlessly opened the doors to this precious home to him.

“But Vesemir, wise as he ever was, went and found Eskel. He didn’t approach me that first day, didn’t push and waited patiently while I kept lurking awkwardly. But he kept spotting me, smiled at me and at the end of the day I thought fuck it, ran toward him and he hugged me close.”

Eskel places a gentle kiss on Geralt’s brow, making his eyes flutter close for a moment like they did when Jaskier fed him the soup earlier. Leaning his temple against Geralt’s, Eskel looks at Jaskier and says, “We took off together and have been inseparable since.”

There are tears prickling in the corners of Jaskier’s eyes and a huge lump in his throat. They gave him a family, a home, and now their story. Jaskier so desperately wants to give something back, and the most precious thing he has is his love for them, and he feels like this is the moment to embrace it fully.

“I’m about to ruin this wonderful moment,” he says, sniffles and wipes at his eyes, “but I fear if I don’t say this now, I’ll never find the courage. So if you’re not into what I’m asking, it’s fine and I’ll find a way around it, but I need to know.”

Jaskier hesitates, bites his lip but when Eskel blinks slowly at him and Geralt raises an eyebrow, he just blurts it out. “Can I kiss you? Both of you, I mean.”

The entire atmosphere in the stable changes. It’s suddenly too hot to think, too dark in this corner to see properly and the air is so thick he finds it near impossible to breathe. He also doesn’t know which pair of bright eyes he should look into.

“We’re right here, Jaskier,” Eskel says ever so gently, “in kissing distance. So I don’t know if you _can_ , but we definitely want you to.”

Jaskier starts to tremble.

“Oh that’s not fair,” he breathes out shakily, looking from one to the other. “How am I supposed to decide where to begin?”

“Just c‘mere,” Geralt says, and then they are both reaching for him.

Eskel with his hand on the nape of his neck, and Geralt with his palm curled around his jaw, they pull him in until their mouths all press against each other in an awkward angle that feels absolutely amazing to Jaskier. Noses bump, breaths hitch and resolve into amused huffs as they all try to navigate this ridiculous kiss. It’s perfect and Jaskier doesn’t want it to end.

It’s Eskel who eventually pulls away slightly and Jaskier immediately tries to chase after his lips. Eskel allows Jaskier one lingering press of lips before he hums contentedly.

“I’m not going anywhere, just want to watch you two,” Eskel says, voice deep and a little hoarse.

“He likes watching,” Geralt says helpfully.

“Hnng, you two,” Jaskier manages to say and then shifts to be in a better position to kiss Geralt. He groans as he ends up straddling Geralt’s thigh and with Eskel’s hand still lying on the back of his neck, he kisses Geralt deeply. A thumb strokes along his hairline as he opens his lips and welcomes Geralt’s tongue, a nose brushes his ear as he licks into Geralt’s mouth in return.

Jaskier moves against him and Geralt’s hands stroke down his sides, then curl around his waist to hold him tightly. There are soft noises around him, sighs and quiet moans and he loses himself in the moment until Eskel licks at the sensitive spot beneath his ear, and Jaskier’s hips roll instinctively against Geralt’s thigh. Geralt moans and holds him impossibly tighter, pours heat into the kiss and Eskel fuels it all by simply licking the same spot again, only this time he even nips gently at the skin. Jaskier whines desperately into Geralt’s mouth because it fucking well looks like he has to be the responsible one to remind them that it might not be the best moment to take this any further. But since he’s been the one initiating, that’s probably fair.

Jaskier breaks the kiss with a frustrated groan. He’s panting and relieved that he doesn’t have to actively fight away two eager mouths because he probably couldn’t. As they stay close and wind down, heads ducked together and breathing the same air, they seem to wordlessly agree that this is to be continued when there’s not a foal about to be born.

“Tomorrow,” Eskel whispers eventually. “We’ll have some time alone tomorrow.”

“Hmmm,” agrees Geralt, humming soft and low as he loosens the still tight grip he has on Jaskier’s waist. Jaskier shivers and wills himself to climb off of Geralt.

“Alright boys,” Jaskier says, his voice quivering and not under control, as he wipes his wet mouth dry with the back of his hand, “back to work, huh?”

“Need a minute,” Geralt grumbles, shifting uncomfortably. “You have no idea what you do to us.”

“Oh I do, I felt your excitement quite prominently and not for the first time,” says Jaskier, eyes darting indiscreetly to the obvious bulge in Geralt’s trousers, “but it’s ever so lovely to hear, my dear.”

His own state is not much better, so he sits back and tries to adjust his half-hard cock in his too tight jeans. He fails to make it more comfortable and gives up, wincing. “Don’t you dare think this is easy for me. I’ve wanted you both for so long, and then I’m brave enough in the most unprofessional moment.” Jaskier sighs. “No regrets here, not ever, just fucked up timing I guess.”

“It was a good moment,” Eskel says and his warm palm comes to rest on Jaskier’s knee. It amazes Jaskier to no end how Eskel can be so calm and confident right now. It doesn’t really help to distract him from the tightness of his trousers. “Thank you for being brave. Now we’ll get through this night and there will be plenty of time for fucking after we’re all rested, if that wasn’t clear enough earlier.”

“You’re right, yes, that’s reassuring. Yes, let’s do that, please,” Jaskier says cheerily and grins smugly, but then remembers something that he should better make clear right now. “If you don’t mind me dragging this awkward talk out just a little bit longer, but,” he takes a breath, “this is not just about sex, for me.”

“Jaskier, of course it’s not just about that,” Eskel rescues him and pulls him into a strong hug. “But we can include that, now.”

“I’d like that very much,” Jaskier says softly into Eskel’s neck.

Geralt joins them then, and while they simply hold onto each other, Jaskier knows there don’t have to be any more words right now.

When they separate, Jaskier gives them a peck on the mouth each. It feels so lovely to be able to do that.

It’s not a cold night, but they can hear the rain thrumming on the roof so the warm tea Eskel pours from the thermos feels good as they watch over Henrietta from the stack of bales and fall into companionable conversation. They have a good view from up here and it all seems to be progressing well, so they go over what Jaskier has planned in case the only complication will be the twisted position of the foal and hopefully nothing else. The mare gets more and more restless and after a few hours, even Roach loses her nerve as Henrietta can’t decide if she rather wants to lie down or stand up.

After half an hour of that, with Geralt mostly trying to calm Roach down, Henrietta doesn’t get up anymore and then finally the water breaks.

Jaskier doesn’t need to think, his instincts take over. He tries to correct the foal’s position but it’s too twisted, so he takes a careful hold of the front legs once they are visible and every time Henrietta pushes, he tugs on them alternatively, to gently ease the way.

He comments on everything that he’s doing, not only because that’s a calming method for himself, but also to make sure everyone who is assisting knows what’s going on. Geralt is close to Henrietta’s head, mostly acting as a calming presence and Eskel waits beside Jaskier, ready to rub the foal's nose free of fluids so it can breathe more easily.

“Nose is out. Eskel?”

“On it!”

“Good. Tell me as soon as the tongue turns purple. Geralt, when that happens I need you to tie the ropes on the legs in case I need to pull with more force.”

“Aright.”

Minutes tick by and there is almost no progress. Jaskier had hoped that they wouldn’t have to interfere more than necessary but with every contraction, Henrietta pushes more weakly.

“Tongue’s turning darker, it can’t breathe properly,” Eskel informs them and Geralt appears at Jaskier’s other side to tie the ropes on the foal’s legs.

Jaskier pulls gently one last time and then releases the legs, watching as Geralt loops the rope into place with practised moves.

Jaskier thanks him when Geralt hands him the two ends. “I hate to do it like this.”

Two hands come to rest side by side on the spot between his shoulder blades.

“It’s ok,” says Geralt, kneeling down on Jaskier’s right side.

“We’re here,” says Eskel from his left.

Feeling their support like this gives him the spark of power he needs and, with the next contraction, he pulls a little more strongly and it’s working.

“I can see the eyes, head’s almost out,” Eskel says, again busy cleaning away everything that could make it harder to breathe for the foal.

“Keep going, you’re doing great,” says Geralt, who has not moved away.

“Head’s out. Almost there, Jaskier, not much longer.”

“You two make it sound like I’m having a baby,” Jaskier pants, as he stems his heels into the floor to get more leverage for the next pull.

“As long as it helps,” Eskel shrugs.

“It does,” Jaskier assures him and then he’s pulling again and he falls backwards on his arse as the ropes give more than he anticipated.

“That’s the shoulders. Worst bit is behind us now, good job,” Eskel praises.

Jaskier sits up again, releases the ropes and starts to gently pull with his hands again. He’s glad to see that the foal seems to breathe easier now that it’s halfway out.

“The tongue is getting pink again,” Jaskier says and lets out a relieved breath.

“All good,” Geralt says.

Jaskier looks at Geralt and returns his smile. “Yes, all good. I’ll just keep helping a bit.”

Shortly after, Jaskier is sure that Henrietta can do the rest on her own and kneels down beside the newborn’s head. “Welcome, you pretty little thing. Look at you, you almost made it,” Jaskier coos over the foal, which turns its head towards his outstretched hand. It paws at the ground with its tiny hooves, looking like it can’t wait to try out its legs. “Hey there, give it a bit longer, you need four legs for jumping around, you know.”

It doesn’t stop, of course, and Jaskier laughs. “You’re a lively sweetheart, aren’t you? Oh now look at that, there are your other legs. How convenient. Give your mummy a little time before you try them out though, yeah?”

Jaskier pats the little head in his lap, runs a finger over the white, star-shaped marking on the foal’s forehead. Geralt and Eskel work around him as he takes this moment to connect with the new soul that he helped bring into this world. It’s a wonder, every time, and after everything else that has happened today, it feels almost magical.

Jaskier never had an animal that truly belonged to him. His parents always made sure to remind him that all the horses on the estate were assets of the family fortune and Jaskier always saw his own life to be too unstable for an animal companion. In the past, he nursed many small pets back to health and then kept them until he found a loving home, and on one memorable occasion, he hid a whole litter of kittens in his tiny rented room.

This little foal in his lap, he’s going to see every day, because he’s living here now. He keeps petting the wiggly thing in his lap, tracing the edges of the marking between her eyes, where dark brown fur fades into white. It’s not exactly a star; it’s a little oval-shaped and the colour is spotted especially at the edges, has three little spikes on each side and a little blob at the top.

Geralt settles down beside them. With a towel, he gently rubs up and down the foal's still wet body.

“Geralt’s helping you to get warm and dry. You see, sweetling, your mum is still very tired, but she’ll clean you soon. We’re just helping a little bit.”

“You want to name her?” Geralt asks, focussed on his task but smiling.

“Me? Oh, Geralt, darling, that’s truly an honour but it would make me feel even more emotionally attached to her than I already am. Probably not such a good idea,” Jaskier says quietly.

“Very good idea if she’s going to be yours, then,” Eskel says, from where he’s putting some supplies back into Jaskier’s bag, grinning as he looks down at them.

“M-mine?” Jaskier squeaks.

“Sure, if you want. We thought you’d like to be the one to take care of her,” Geralt says.

All Jaskier can do is stare at the tiny horse in his lap.

“You already thought of a name, I know you,” Eskel laughs and comes over to sit with them on the ground. “Go on, tell us.”

“You do know me.” Jaskier strokes his fingertips over the marking again. “Ladybug,” he reveals, making the others laugh fondly and suddenly the newly named Ladybug wriggles out of his lap in her first attempt at standing up.

Her spindly legs give in again but she doesn’t give up even though she’s struggling to coordinate all four of them at the same time.

“Ambitious little bug,” Geralt says drily, watching as she scrambles to where Henrietta is already turning her head towards her foal and then starts to lick her immediately.

Jaskier clutches his heart and sighs loudly when it’s clear that Henrietta’s whole attention is with her baby now and Roach is making small, contented noises as she watches them getting to know each other. He knows this is their cue to leave them alone for a while.

Eskel has already tidied up the stall so they all slip out to keep watching quietly from outside. There are a few things Jaskier has to wait for and check up on in the next hour or so, but this moment is just as important as anything else.

They work quietly and hand in hand after that and Geralt sends texts to Vesemir, Lambert and Aiden so they are updated when they take over later. It’s not quite morning, but it’s close, when the last thing they do is get Scorpion to have a quick look into the stall because he keeps making impatient noises. With him satisfied to have checked up on his offspring, Jaskier sends Eskel and Geralt to go freshen up and into bed, he can finish off the rest alone.

Geralt looks at him with the most adorable pout he’s ever seen.

“Geralt, you look like you’ll fall asleep standing up any second now. You can’t help me write the last bit of my report now, can you?”

Geralt opens his mouth slowly in an attempt to protest, but then closes it again, resigned, with a frustrated hum that turns into a yawn.

“There you go,” Jaskier says and rewards him with a kiss on his cheek, “see you in the morning.”

“Luckily, it _is_ almost morning,” Eskel says. “Duvet’s big enough, but you might want to bring your pillow.”

For a second there, Jaskier can feel panic creeping up his neck. He’s usually invited to beds for one purpose only and that’s just not going to happen tonight, it’s been a hell of a day. He feels emotionally and physically exhausted and is pretty sure he himself doesn’t look much fitter than Geralt, who is leaning quite heavily on Eskel now.

The look in Eskel’s eyes is kind though, and so very gentle. His smile is very sweet and open, and Jaskier simply knows there are no expectations. When Jaskier takes too long to reply, Eskel looks away and rubs a hand against the scarred side of his face in that self-conscious way that makes Jaskier’s heartache.

“Oh, darling,” Jaskier says, beaming, and steps closer, “my pillow and I happily accept your invitation.” Jaskier takes Eskel’s hand away from his face and places a kiss there instead. “Please don’t wait up.”

“I’m not letting you crawl into our bed for the first time with us both passed out,” Eskel says and steals a kiss. “Pretty boy here will drift off with his toothbrush in his mouth if I don’t keep watch. He gets like that after a long day, especially when it was, let’s say, emotionally taxing, but I’ll wait for you.”

“Hey,” Geralt protests weakly in Eskel’s arms.

“It’s alright, love,” Eskel reassures him with a kiss to his temple.

Jaskier cups Geralt’s jaw and brushes their noses together. “If you’re good now and let Eskel tuck you into bed, I’ll wake you for a goodnight kiss. How’s that sound?”

“‘m good,” Geralt slurs, chasing after Jaskier’s touch as he withdraws.

“Off with you now, or we’ll never get to bed,” Jaskier laughs and shoos them away.

* * *

After the quickest shower of his life, with damp hair and his pillow clutched to his chest, Jaskier stands in front of the bedroom door. It’s left ajar and a warm glow falls through the crack. He pushes it open slowly, peeking in to find Eskel sitting up against the headboard, reading with the bedside lamp on. Geralt is curled against his side, snoring softly, with his bare shoulders peeking out from under the duvet and his face pressed into the soft-worn cotton of Eskel’s sleep t-shirt.

Eskel looks up with a smile and sets the book aside. “Don’t stand there like you don’t belong here, come in.”

“I’m just taking in this picture of pure domestic bliss, my dearest.”

Jaskier slips into the room, closes the door behind him, and sits down on Eskel’s side of the bed. He takes one look at the massive piece of furniture and smiles when he sees a pattern of tiny goats adorning the large duvet.

“Must have thought about you two in here a few times too often, and now can’t quite believe this is real,” Jaskier whispers, stroking over one of the goats that resembles Lil' Bleater, feeling Eskel’s solid thigh underneath.

“It’s been a long day,” Eskel says and sits up. He’s pushing Jaskier gently away to scoot over himself, making room in the middle. “Now get in here, between us. Geralt insisted and he’s going to be grumpy when he wakes up to find you elsewhere.”

“Bossy and demanding, is he?” Jaskier climbs over Eskel and slips under the duvet. “Oh hoho, and naked, too!”

“Sorry,” Eskel laughs, “could barely get him out of the shower and I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind. I was wondering about that, actually, with him always walking around half-naked before bed.”

“Yeah, he’s a cuddler and runs hot at night.”

Jaskier has barely settled and Geralt is already wrapping himself around his body and huffs sleepily into his shoulder.

“Very cuddly indeed, what a delightful discovery. And you?” Jaskier asks, petting Geralt’s hair.

“I like to hold close, keep safe,” Eskel says quietly.

Jaskier hums in acknowledgement. “Just as delightful. You are both welcome to cuddle and hold me to your hearts’ content.” He nuzzles his nose into Geralt’s hair, talking softly. “Geralt, my dear heart, I promised you a good night kiss, do you remember?”

When Geralt doesn’t stir, he strokes his fingers up and down the side of his face while saying his name a few times in a hushed voice, until he does.

“Hm,” Geralt says eventually, tilting his head up for said kiss without opening his eyes. Jaskier presses their lips together gently and when Geralt’s head falls back onto his shoulder with a pleased sigh, he’s already asleep again.

Eskel switches off the light and then lies down on his side, draping an arm over both of them. His nose pokes into Jaskier’s cheek until he turns his head and gets a good night kiss of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who loves this verse - and it makes me ever so happy to know some of you do - I made this fic part 1 of the "Rainbow Farm Chronicles" series. If you would like to get a notification for any future fic (and there will at least be one), please consider subscribing to the series directly. :)
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://my-citrus-pocket.tumblr.com/)


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